Bill, Johnny, and Bunny, 1962
I’ve been going back and forth on which prompt to do this week, and finally I decided on “Write about what you miss most about living at home with your parents.”
I really don’t want to get too maudlin here, but at this point, I miss having my parents, period. Yesterday was the fiftieth anniversary of my Dad’s death; my mother’s second husband, who we called Tex, died in 1992; and Mom died in 2000. My in-laws are gone, too: Joe died in 1997, and Charlotte died in 2000, a few months after Mom did. (Yeah, 2000 was a bad year.)
I was at my cousin’s house (Mom’s cousin, really; he’s my cousin once removed) about twenty years ago, and after dinner he said, “Hey, give your mother a call.” I didn’t quite understand why he said that, other than I remember he was very close to his mother, but I went ahead and called her, we had a nice chat, he got on the phone and talked with her for a while, then gave the phone back to me and I said goodbye and told her I loved her, and she told me she loved me.
I think I understand now: there comes a day when you won’t be able to talk to them, so you need to take the time now to talk to them. So, call your parents.