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Copyright 2009-2010 by
Mary Brotherton
All Rights Reserved

Inside my Brain

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Monday, November 23, 2009


My last morning at Momma’s began with a thick fog and a bittersweet sensation. We were both happy to have shared a week of mother-daughter time, interspersed with visits from other family members. We’d shopped, dined out, cooked and taken long country-road drives in the afternoon sun. She and I had laughed and shared jokes; we gossiped and giggled; we grew even closer than we’d been only a week earlier.

Today, I had to leave – again. My departure would lead me to more loved ones, while leaving her alone until someone else stops by to visit or until she dares to drive.

As I drove toward Richard and Sharon’s home, I wondered what kind of reception I’d receive. I need not have been concerned.

“Hey, Grandberry!” Three-year-old Zakary rushed to my car. “Where’s your kids?”

“Your daddy is one of my kids,” I told him, “and your Uncle Matt is another one.”

He tried to look inside my back seat. “Yea, but where’s your other kid?”

“I had to leave Stuart in Florida,” I told him. “He had to go to school and couldn’t come with me.”

With his hand on his hips, his big blue-green eyes stared into mine and he said, “Grandberry, that will never do!”

I had a marvelous visit with my new daughter-in-law and the grandchildren before Richard came home. We went shopping and the kids the camera and I entertained one another with a funhouse-type mirror at a shoe store. We celebrated Christmas after dinner and I enjoyed watching the kids open their gifts. Once the children were in bed, the adults chilled out in front of the fireplace.