The good news is it feels much cooler inside our bedroom than it does outside; I saw a woman staring out her window, chin in hands, while a baby pointed and babbled next to her; I am reading two books at once; I have experimented and succeeded at creating a cobbler recipe that your father enjoys (the secret is butter, I should have known); the apple tree is finally fruitful.
The bad news is my hip joints do not have nifty little holes like my sewing machine where I can drip oil as needed; all of the other fruit trees we’ve planted were uprooted in last week’s hurricane; I forgot to buy milk and eggs during my grocery store trip this morning (and now what I actually did buy escapes me. I spent two hours in Kroger that felt more like five minutes); the carburetor is on its last leg, daddy says (and he didn’t laugh when I asked, “No other limbs left to prop it up?” so I know he’s worried); Amy Beth, the girl I was always trying to get you to meet, has died of a swollen heart and now you will never get to meet her (I made her parents a chicken casserole, but they don’t eat meat so your father and I have been eating on it all week and he hasn’t quit griping); I’m reading two books at once and I keep getting the characters and story lines confused.
Write me a letter for once. I’m your mother.
Shameless plug! Check my story “Mother Knows Best” at fwriction:review tomorrow!