Sex is in the air

Mom's room

I went to get her for church this morning and found her in the dining room taking her meds. When she was done, I coaxed her through the tables, the walker making it a puzzle. We passed a worker I hadn't met before, and the woman said, "Is that your son?" We chatted for couple minutes, and then, as we went on, Mom whispered, "She has five kids." She trundled ahead.  "And I asked her, 'How many dads?'"

Jeezus. 

The answer, Mom said, was three, obviously confirming for her some ugly, frightening calculus.  

No sighting of the quarterback at church, but the flypaper quality of the social hour held. She stood at the snack table eating right from the platters, chatting left and right, with her walker clogging all access, till I took control and moved her to a chair.

At brunch, we hardly spoke. Not that there was tension -- we had run out of things to say. I listened to two old guys at a nearby table discussing their sexual histories. One of them I know for a fact is 101, and has outlived at least two wives. He has no obvious frailties, and by his talk, he's still in the game. They mentioned a woman who lives there -- let's call her Betty -- whom they praised for her charm, and/or accessibility, I wasn't sure which. "And she's only 67!" said one.  

Mom had been cogent, if inappropriate, all morning. In her room, she hit the wall, too tired to object to my departure.

Front rack, handlebar bag.
12 days till my weeklong trip.