Literal Lil

I took Used to Be Mother for a drive to rural Alberta yesterday. She read every sign along the way. It's how she fills time instead of conversation. She reads without any context or meaning. It went something like this:

No frills bargains. What does that mean?

Darcy Ranch. Why would they call it that? It's named after someone Mom. Well, I don't see any cows.

We do it better. What do they do? Why would they say that? Things sure change don't they Bonnie?

Call before you dig. Call who? Dig what? (This sign really flumaxed her).

When there is no sign, she comments of the scenery or her beloved topic: the traffic. Look at all those cars. Where are they going? Oh my look at all that traffic. Such a busy place. It's a highway Mom.

We stop at Costco to pick up some pictures I had plaque mounted.

Oh my look at the size of this store. They have so much stuff. Who is going to buy all this stuff? I've never been in a store with so much stuff. I don't tell her that we were at Costco just a few weeks ago.

We next go to a wonderful quilting store where bolts of beautiful designed fabric and sample quilts fill every inch of the store. She reminds me that she used to quilt but she never used such fancy "cutters" and she never bought any fabric. She used old dresses, tablecloths, sheets and pillowcases. As we leave the store she says That girl sure could cut the fabric good.

Another birthday so a visit to the Dollar Store. She's thrilled that we can do all our errands in this little rural community. On the way home we see the Fast Gas station. It's all yellow and green. What is that? She wonders why they made it such a bright colour. It doesn't seem to help them have more customers.

On the way home she tells me that it is supposed to snow. She wonders why the weather report is wrong. She notices the deer in the field by the highway. She starts reading the signs again. She's had quite an afternoon. She tells me she could have knit two dishcloths in all the time we were gone shopping. I know Mom but you wouldn't have been able to spend time with me.

As I drop her off, she leans over, kisses me goodbye and thanks me for the wonderful day. She hurries into her complex afraid she will be late for her dinner. She'll have lots to tell her tablemates. And for a few brief hours she wasn't lonely or a.l.o.n.e.