Conversation History

            Looking at the local newspaper, Mom says, “Whidbey Island.  Did we ever live on Whidbey Island?”

            “Yes.  We live there now,” I reply in a cheery voice.

            “Oh.  I had totally forgotten about that.”

            For two days she has talked about the “stitch” in her left side, so I make a doctor’s appointment for her.  That afternoon, as we head out the door and I explain we are going to see the doctor, she asks why. 

“Because your side hurts,” I say.

“It’s not bothering me now,” she tells me.

            The dialogue repeats itself during the ten-minute drive to Freeland and our brief wait at the doctor’s office.  When Dr. O’Neill comes in and asks Mom how she is doing, Mom redirects the question to me:  “How am I doing?”

            Immediately following the uncomfortable poking and prodding of the examination, Mom is sitting on the exam table.  Pressing her left side with her left hand, she helpfully announces to the doctor:  “Maybe you should check out my left side.  It’s bothering me.”

            I forget the topic, but at lunchtime she comments, “My proclivities tend to run in another direction,” while I wonder how this mother of mine who can accurately use “proclivities” in conversation has just asked me if it is July.