Nothing much of consequence

I invited Used to Be Mother to spend the afternoon and have dinner with us. She was thrilled. She came in her slippers and her spring jacket. She sat knitting baby hats while I ironed. She doesn't purse her lips or hum like she used to when we were younger. I turned on some music. She loves music. Any type as long as it is loud. There's nothing wrong with her hearing. She wonders why she can't find music like that on her radio. I make her a snack and she is so thrilled to eat fresh pear and cheese though she doesn't remember the name of either anymore. We cuddle on the couch and watch The Sounds of Mumbai, a documentary, on my Ipad.

UTBM: How did they get those little kids to act so well?

Me: It's a documentary. It's just someone asking them questions and their replies.

UTBM: How did you get that movie inside that book?

Me: It's complicated. Don't worry. Just enjoy the movie.

UTBM: Is this music new? I've never heard this song before. (She is tickled that she even knows the lyrics).

As we get ready for dinner, she helps put the water glasses on the table. She is so tickled to be with us and wouldn't we just let her stay with us and she could be so helpful to us and she likes the dog now and she wouldn't be any trouble and couldn't that bedroom upstairs fit all her furniture?

She doesn't take any salad.

UTBM: I don't like that purple stuff.

She hasn't even finished swallowing her last mouthful when she asks to go home. She needs to put in her drops. Needs to take her teeth out. Needs to watch Lawrence Welk.

As I drive away from dropping her off, I feel so grateful for these little moments we share. Tedious. Mundane. Nothing much of consequence. But she is happy and feels loved and enjoyed her afternoon. What more could I ask for?