Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: ANNOYED (04/05/18)
- TITLE: I'm Ginny!
By Yvonne Blake
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“Aren’t you going to see who’s calling you?”
“I know who it is. It’s Mom. She calls me a hundred times every day.”
Bill cocked his head. “I doubt it’s a hundred times every day.”
“Well, it seems like it.”
Bill watched the vibrating phone crawl to the edge the coffee table and caught it mid-air. “Hello? … Yes, It’s me, Bill … Yes, she’s fine … No, you went to the doctor today… Yes, she is coming over tomorrow … Good night, Mom.” He turned it off and handed it to me.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I told you so. I go through this all day long, every day!”
“She can’t help it. She’s an old woman, and her memory is fading.” He tapped my nose. “That might be you someday.”
I swatted his hand away. “Oh, hush!” The phone buzzed again. I sighed and answered it. “Hi, Mom …Yes, it’s me, Ginny, your only daughter…No, you already went to the doctor today. He said you’re blood pressure was better …Yes, I’m coming over tomorrow… Now, go to bed, Mom… Yes, it’s nine o’clock. It’s late… Goodnight, Mom.”
It wasn’t even dawn before the phone rang again. Mom called ten times before I got over there. She was still wearing the clothes she had on yesterday, and her bed wasn’t even used. I assumed she slept in the recliner again, watching TV. The milk was left out on the table. I wrinkled my nose at it before pouring the rest down the drain. I got Mom washed and dressed for the day.
While I cooked her some oatmeal and raisins, she pushed her walker around the kitchen, opening and closing the cupboard doors. She stopped to look out the window.
“Remember when we used Mama’s fancy china out there in the orchard? She was mad at us for a week.” She shook her head and chuckled.
“Mom, there’s no orchard out there. We’re not at the farm. This is the house that you and Dad bought when you got married.
She turned to me. “You’re not Betty. Who are you?”
“No, I’m not Aunt Betty. I’m Ginny, your daughter.”
She rubbed her forehead. “O dear, I get so confused sometimes.”
I helped her to the table and cleaned the kitchen while she ate.
“You’re a nice girl. What’s your name, Sweetie?”
“I’m Ginny, your daughter, Ginny!” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m tired. I think I’ll go home and take a nap.” She shuffled toward the bedroom, but paused to pick up the phone. She pushed four buttons while saying the numbers out loud. “7-7-5-5 “
“Who are you calling?”
“I’m calling Ginny.”
She looked at me and blinked her eyes.
“Mom… I’ve been here for almost two hours. In fact, it’s time for me to go to work. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”
All day, my mind was on Mom’s deteriorating mind. I heard my phone while I was parking at the bank. I knew it was her, but I was busy. It buzzed again in the grocery store. Feeling guilty, I answered it. “Hi, Mom …Yes, this is Ginny … No, I already came today. I’m at the store… I know you want to go home to the farm. Maybe Bill and I can take you for a visit this weekend… I’ve got to go, Mom… Bye … I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”
I wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles. A woman, my pastor’s wife, touched my arm. “How is your mother doing?” Those gentle words pricked the water bubble beneath the surface. I let her wrap her arms around me as I cried, right there in the middle of the ice cream aisle.
“It’s okay, Dear. God knows all about it. Sometimes He gives you more than you can handle, so you will turn to Him and say, ‘I can’t do this. Help me.’”
Those words were so true. I couldn’t handle Mom. It was too hard. I needed help.
At dinnertime, Bill listened to my day. “It’s time to contact that home or move her in with us. By the way, she hasn’t called all evening.”
I realized that Mom hadn’t called for hours. She didn’t answer her phone. I remembered her wanting to go back to the farm. For once, I wanted her to call me more than anything else in the world.
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