Well, the best mother in the world, of course.
Well, because she listens.
And when listening to someone's tale she will say,
'Stop! Wait! Start at the beginning! You parked the car...'
And will then Really Listen. Right to the very end. And beyond.
And you know she's listening because she likes to know all the details. And asks for them.
Which is pure gold.
When I am sick, she rings.
'Darling, how ARE you?' she will ask.
And keep asking, until she knows I am OK again.
She goes to see darling
Monday, 4 April 2011
Takes her out for elevenses, or a little trip to the village shop, recently re-opened, to enormous excitement to our family. We all arrived the morning it opened, swelling the crowds (one other person) and bewildering the shop assistant with exclamations of joy, 'They've got TEA BAGS!' and 'HOORAY! I can see BAKED BEANS!'
Thrilling, though, when the nearest shop is miles away and is Tesco. Yeeurch.
My Mother loves.
And tells us so whenever we need to be told. And when we don't.
Fruity, deep laughs or 'I'm going to be sick, I am laughing so hard' or 'Oh, God, I'll wet my pants' laugh. She has a way of telling a story that gets you giggling way before the punchline. By the time it's reached, you are in agony and are begging her to stop.
Copiously. She gets cross with herself for the tears that get in the way of what she wants to say. And wipes them away. Before weeping again.
Always. Knows what's going on in that head of mine. And helps me tease out the muddle. So that I can see straight again.
How I love her.