My mother called today. She is 87 years old, and it was lovely to hear her voice. I call her once a week at least, and once a day at most. Today, her call came unexpectedly. It was a nice surprise.
My mother is a social butterfly. She loves to talk. I still remember the party dresses, dinners, and special events. Connection is probably what fills her cup the most, while I fill up by spending time alone. Her social gene is clearly one I did not inherit. I am much better at listening. It’s what I do most when we talk. She can talk about anything, especially about the weather. Her other favorite topics are my health, the news, and family.
From temperatures to her "gatita," it doesn’t really matter. When we talk, I don’t say much. It’s so much better to be listening. I listen to her voice and note the changes in her tone. Those tiny sounds can tell so much. Tiny changes are much easier to notice when sound is all you have. Our changing faces only come to light once a year, Christmas, summer, or New Years day, through hugs or tears or food.
Time changes things faster than we think. It has each day I notice, while looking in the mirror. I think about the time we had and the time that we have left. Then, I realize the tiny gift we have, each day we get to talk.
My mother called today. It was lovely to hear her voice.