I call my mom 'most every night. She lives so far away.
She’s living with my sister, Joy; I miss her every day.
My sister's busy with a husband, job, two teens, three pets.
As far time-consuming goes, that’s as crazy as it gets!
Sometimes the phone just rings and rings when I am sure they're there.
It turns out they can’t find the phone - it’s hidden well somewhere.
Once I get my mother, then our conversation starts.
It always has variety, but some familiar parts.
We talk about the weather first - it’s probably snowy here.
In Tennessee, it’s “gorgeous, Carol - sunny, warm, and clear!”
We then move on to dinner, and she asks what Ed’s creating.
I tell her we have eaten, and she says they still are waiting.
She says how good Ed’s cooking sounds, and then takes time to state
That Joy’s meals are luscious (if they are a little late).
She asks about “the kiddies,” meaning Charlotte/Caroline.
She asks what witty things they’re saying, hoping they are fine.
She asks about our children, who are grown and busy too.
She asks about our dog, and if there’s anything that’s new.
I ask about her day, and so she tells me what transpired.
Sometimes she has a doctor visit; that might make her tired.
She talks about my sister’s kids and all their busy lives.
I see that with her family there, my mother really thrives.
She’s proud that she can dress herself without my sister’s aid.
She’s proud to use the walker when she used to be afraid.
(Since her wreck, we’re blown away by how far she’s progressed.
It’s due to her will, and to Joy, who knew what might work best.)
Mom then thanks me for calling, and says to hug my Ed.
She notes, since I get up at 4, it’s probably time for bed.
We joke about our yawning every time we share a call.
We never know who starts it, but it’s “writing on the wall”
That now it's time for us to say, “Good night, I love you,” then
We both hang up, but knowing soon we’ll have a chat again.