If You Could Be Anywhere, Where Would You Be?
Posted: Sunday, March 07, 2010
by Brianna Popsickle
Have you ever received the email that asks you to complete a questionnaire in order for your friends to get to know you better? It asks everything from your favorite color, to your deepest darkest secret. Some of my answers never change, like favorite drink or color, but when it comes to my favorite place to be, it depends on my mood at the time.
Visits to my parents are less frequent than I'd like, so when I do get there for a few days, I treasure every moment.
I'm awakened each day at dawn to the sound of the kettle boiling, a sign my dad's already up. Although I could sleep for hours (sleep comes easier to me there), I join him on the front porch to have our first morning coffee together. He fills me in on what's happening in the neighborhood and I'll tell him about my kids and whatever's going on in my life. Sometimes neither of us has much to say so we'll sit and enjoy the quiet as people pass by on their way to work. Early morning has always been my favorite time of day; early morning on the porch with my dad, is the best.
Once my mother's up, their daily routine begins. Although she's never smoked, she's suffered with COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) for many years. She has very little lung capacity and is on oxygen twenty-four hours a day. Doctors called the family home several times over the years expecting her to slip away, but she's always rallied, much to their surprise. Years ago her doctor told us, "Your mother's been out of my hands for a long time, she's in His."
My mother's five feet tall and weighs a hundred pounds. Although she may look frail, she's feisty and spirited at eighty years of age. She adores children, loves to discuss what's happening in the world, and despite years of illness, laughs easily and has a smile that can light up a room.
My dad is six foot two, two hundred and seventy-five pounds and has a heart of gold. I think of him as my gentle giant. Although he can put on a cranky exterior, his sensitivity is obvious in everything he does, from spending time with his grandchildren, caring for my mother or feeding the birds. He has a relentless sense of humour, which can sometimes drives everyone crazy, one I've inherited and passed along to my daughter.
The day slips by quickly with medications for my mom and meals to prepare, all things my dad does lovingly and with care. He's very particular and set in his ways and to try and help just gets in his way. While he tends to his list of things he wants to accomplish, my mother and I sit near the big picture window in their living room or lay on her bed talking about the past, the present and what the future may hold.
We've been best friends forever. She knows how I think and feel, and always knows exactly what I need to hear. She tells me I'm the one person she can count on to make her laugh, which we do often when we're together and during our daily phone calls when we're apart.
On occasion, I'll grocery shop with my dad. It's been many years since I lived in the small town and I recognize very few faces, but he knows everyone and everyone knows him. He'll take me for a drive around town, which seems to grow with each visit. I see the home I grew up in and the home where I started my own family, a lifetime ago.
If I plan it right, I'm there for the fish-and-chip special at the restaurant I went to as a child. As I wait for our order, I can't resist spinning around once on the red leather stool, marveling at the fact that some things never change. The restaurant is exactly as it was when I was ten. Our family would go there for ice-cream cones, which we'd eat while parked on the main street, watching the hustle and bustle of our small town on a Friday night.
I watch as my mom and dad worked side by side in the kitchen. My dad makes a silly joke for the third time in ten minutes and my mother shakes her head but laughs all the same. Married fifty-eight years, they're a reminder of what commitment and unconditional love is all about; for better for worse, in sickness and health.
Between visits from the priest and health care workers, episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond, and Funniest Home Videos fill their day. My parents are easily pleased as their faces light up with a phone call from any of their three girls, and when neighbors wave on their way by, knowing my parents will be sitting next to the window.
I see the joy on their faces as they watch several blue jays swoop in to retrieve the bread they left out for them, a ritual they've told me about each day on the phone. I laugh as a neighborhood dog bounds up their porch, peering in at my parents until one of them takes a treat to the door, all simple pleasures that truly warm my heart.
When it's time for me to say good bye, there's lots of hugs and I love you's.' My tears come later as I pull away, taking one last look at them standing arm in arm, waving from the porch. I can't help but wonder if this will be my last visit with either of them.
I smile as I envision what they'll do next. My dad will go to the notepad he keeps beside his chair in the basement. For years I've written a message just for him. Good to see you Dad', Thanks for taking such good care of mom', Take care of yourself'. He's never acknowledged them to me, but my mother's told me he's saved every one and will sometimes pull them out to read over.
My mom will lay down and pray I have a safe drive home. She'll watch the clock and call me a few hours later to say, thank you for coming,' and I miss you already.'
Hours later, my husband greets me at the door.
"How was your visit? What did you do?" he asks.
"Well, we really didn't do anything, but we had a wonderful visit." I reply. "Let's sit on the front porch, I'll tell you all about it, but first I want to get some bread for the birds."
As I toss breadcrumbs onto the front yard, I tell him about my early morning talks on the porch with my dad, about the dog peering in at my parents, waiting for a treat, how everyone greets my dad by name when he shops and how the restaurant hasn't changed one bit. I tell him how my dad can recite all the lines to the I Love Raymond episodes, and always wins when playing The Price is Right. I tell him about the long talks with my mom and how we laughed until we cried. I tell him her smile still lights up the room and how my dad still jokes with her constantly.
The phone rings and I run inside to answer it knowing it will be my mom.
"I'm glad you made it home safe and sound," she says. "Thanks so much for coming, Brianna. I miss you already."
I return to the porch with tears running down my cheeks, I miss them already, too. My husband gives me a hug.
"Promise me you'll laugh at my jokes when we're old, even when I'm driving you nuts," I sob. "Promise me we'll always be kind and caring towards one another even when we're cranky and especially when we're sick. Tell me we'll always enjoy the simple things in life, things like feeding the birds"
As I look up from my husband's shoulder, I see our dog, Casey, wandering the yard, eating every bit of bread I've put out for the birds.
I start to laugh.
A visit with my parents on their front porch is good for my soul, but being home on my own porch is good for me too. It isn't the porch that makes it my favorite place it's the people I'm with.
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Top-level comments on this article: (8 total)Brianna,Your article was a joy. Is it not a beautiful thing to have memories like these to cherish always? It is wonderful that you take the time to savor them, and to love your parents as they deserve to be loved.I feel very blessed to have had such loving parents. Thanks for reading and for your kind comment.
What a nice article. Makes me a little sad that I don't have those kinds of memories/experiences from home, but also heartened to know that some people really do, not just in novels. :)Thanks for reading Joyce and for taking the time to comment, I appreciate it.Thanks Joyce. I appreciate your reading and taking the time to comment.
Wonderful Story about unconditional love Brianna. You are truly blessed to have such loving parents. Thanks for sharing from your heart.You're welcome Linda. Thanks for reading and joining my fan club!
Hi Brianna I couldn't agree more about the porch and the people you are with being the favourite. Also Its not often you get mom and dad in the same kitchen without bickering. I guess this has a lot to do with dad (your gentle giant ) and his jokes.Keep wellKacyThanks for reading Kacy! I appreciate your taking time to comment.
aww nice story brianna!Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!
What a wonderful, heartwarming story. I almost feel as if I know them- good memories you'll have for the rest of your life. Thanks-EllaThanks Ella. I love when people can find pleasure in the simple things in life, and much because of my mom's illness, they've mastered that skill.
greatThanks Aileen!
greatThank you Aileen!
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