And We Went Antiquing Together, Too!

Last week, my mother was with my father on Anna Maria Island (near Tampa, on the other side of the state). She works on weekends, so she is able to come down and visit during the week. She also broke her toe while she was down here; well, actually, my dad did that. Apparently he was having a nightmare, thrashing around the bed, and his foot came down right between my mom's little and second littlest toes. My mom yelled "Rick, you just broke my toe!" Then she turned over, and went back to sleep. She doesn't even remember saying that.

But they were in urgent care in the morning, and they told her to where a little boat to stabilize it, and to tape the two toes together. She also had a bruise around her collarbone, because she has always bruised very easily, so the doctor started asking her if my dad hits her. It's good that he's conscious of this, but if it was abuse, he's the worst abuser ever. "You disobeyed me woman, so I'm stepping on your toe! And let me hit you in a highly visible spot! Mwuh-ha-ha-ha-ha!!" Not that abusive husbands are known for their smarts, but they do tend towards the sneakiness. And my mom let the doctor know that if my dad ever hit her, she'd clobber him. Hell, I'd clobber him. But we all (including my dad) got a chuckle out of this, because this is how my family is: the kind that makes inappropriate jokes. Just send us to a funeral, and you'll see what I mean.

But all of this meant my mom couldn't go to the beach or anything. She was pretty depressed.

So, it turned out that on Thursday, the center where I work was having a presentation by someone from the Center for Missing and Exploited Children that night, and that we weren't having classes, and, in fact, we weren't going to be working at all on Thursday. It happens occasionally.

I normally work on Fridays, but I asked my boss whether it might not be possible for me to come in and work on Saturday. She agreed to my idea, so on Wednesday night, after work, I took off to go to the other side of the state. I already had a little suitcase packed. I was once a Boy Scout, after all.

The drive was nice: driving around Lake Okeechobee at night is a little eerie, but certainly preferable to driving during the daytime. Less traffic. It still took me about four hours, which seems to be the standard time to get over there, although at least I know the best way to go now. It was nice out, so I had my window down some of the way, and was singing along with my iPod.

I got to the house at 12:18. The door was unlocked, because I called my dad earlier in the day to let him know I was coming, and the light was on. I came into the house, and saw my mom lying on the couch, a book in her hands, asleep.

"Mom?" I said.

At which point, she did her best simulated heart-attack. She always does that when she is startled. When I was young, it was horrifying, but you get used to it. Eyes wide, clutching her chest, panting heavily. And then a big smiles spreads across her face.

"Bill!"

We were up talking until about 3:00AM. Well, actually, a significant portion of my time was spent helping her set up a MySpace page, which honestly was the weirdest thing about the night. She wants to use it to keep in touch with her friends from high school.