The Visit - Part 1

She sat on the short stone wall by the sidewalk, head bowed and back slumped forward. I waved at her and told the driver to stop. She slowly got up and walked over. With the help of a cane, she approached the cab and raised her cane at the driver.

I panicked for a moment. The deep creases between her brows made her look irritated, and I wasn’t sure if they were from habits or an indication of her mood. Was she going to smash the window with her cane? Was she mad at me for not picking up the phone this morning?

I didn’t have to answer the phone to know the instructions from her:

It’s time to get up! Don’t miss the plane! for the first call and It’s time to leave. The plane isn‘t going to wait for you! for the second call. Apparently I’m still three years old to her.

“Left, left!” she said/yelled.
The driver said, “Should I go up more?” He was intimidated by the cane, too.

I said no and got out of the cab. She strolled over to the side where I was sitting and practically yelled, “This is not the entrance! Tell him to go up more!”

I hugged her and said it’s okay--I traveled light. She calmed down a little, but she wasn’t excited to see me as I had imagined. I got teary eyed on the plane for nothing.

She shrunk a lot. The cane was new to me, and it was hard for me to see. Not that long ago--or so it felt--she was taller and stronger than I was. She wore high heels that I had trouble walking in. Now her head was barely up to my chin, her back perpetually hunched over, and she looked as if she might fall anytime even with a cane. High heels belonged to the dreams of yesteryear. Her body felt small in my arms although she still weighed more than me.

Age had her beat and there was evidence from her head to her toe.

I haven’t been to this house before. She moved about half a dozen times in ten years, twice within the same complex. She had trouble making decision, and it changed easily once it had been made. She packed and unpacked everything herself, and the sore muscles didn’t stop her from doing it again in a year or two. I got tired just from hearing these words: I’m moving--here’s the new address.

I was given a tour in the small house and her complaint of having to throw away tons of stuff. I have a small house, so she had to make the sacrifice if we were going to live together. Besides, they were mostly junk anyway. But I won’t tell her that.

I couldn’t sleep the first night. There were a lot to do, but that wasn’t why I lost sleep.