Snowbound
Friday was a rough day. It was the second day I had off of work because of extreme temperatures. It was so cold on Friday that neither my or my husband’s cars would start. So I had to call my mom’s house to see about getting the batteries jumped.
My mother hates snow. She fears the awesome wrath of winter. Her fear of snow can hamper her daily life. She becomes obsessed with the weather report—it is like she is part of some cult. I remember watching a particularly ominous forecast with her about a year ago; it called for 6 to 8 inches of snow by morning and a rough commute. She shook her head at the TV and said, “Well, I guess I’ll have to pack a bag for work tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. To me, ‘rough commute’ means a slow drive to work.
She made her face. “I’ll have to pack enough to spend the night at work if the weather is bad.” Melodramatically, she added, “I’ll just sleep on an examination table.”
In my mind’s eye, I saw this sad, sad picture of my mom in a fetal position trying to sleep on a child’s examination table. She had tucked herself in using that weird tissue-protector stuff as a blanket.
“You’re not gonna sleep at work,” I said.
Anyway, back to Friday: I called my mom about the batteries. She was concerned that my husband was going to trek into work, but there was no way I could dissuade him. I told her that I needed to get to the grocery store because I had no food. She said she would call me later when she found someone to take her. She does not drive when there is snow on the roads.
Around 4:30, my mother called to go to the grocery store. She had been shut inside all day with my sister and brother; from what she said, it sounded like a synopsis of “The Shining”.
MOM: (depressed) This is the worst day of my life.
ME: Why?
MOM: You and your brother ruined it. Your other brother and sister are driving me nuts.
ME: How?!? I’ve been home all day!
MOM: Your car battery died.
ME: That can’t be helped. What brother? What did he do?
MOM: Matthew drove his car into a ditch off 490.
ME: Is he hurt?
MOM: This is what I get. It’s a punishment for calling into work.
ME: It’s not a punishment! You couldn’t help calling in! The roads were terrible. Mark said that cars were off the road all up 104 and 590.
MOM: It’s all my fault.
There was no use reasoning with her. I had to wait for my father to pick me up to take my mother and me to the store.
The grocery store was dead. I had a list of stuff to make soup, so I shopped ahead of my mom. I was in an aisle when I could hear Marlene’s voice carry. She was laughing and talking loudly (this means she was excited about something). I followed her voice to the deli counter. She was talking to the woman who was slicing cold cuts.
MOM: Isn’t it wonderful? You’ll never guess where I got it.
A-ha! My mom found a new contestant on her version of “The Price is Right”: “Guess how much Marlene spent on the coat”.
DELI LADY: I don’t know. It’s a beautiful coat.
MOM: The Salvation Army! Can you believe it? (pause) Guess how much I paid for it?
DELI LADY: I don’t know. It must have been expensive!
Rube! I thought.
The deli lady never played this game before!
MOM: Eight dollars!!
DELI LADY: No way!!
MOM: Yeah! And guess what else---
ME: (interrupting) Did you tell her about the gloves?
MOM: No. (to deli lady) I found a pair of leather gloves in the pocket!
DELI LADY: They were probably worth as much as the coat.
MOM: (beaming) I know!
This exchange made my mother’s night! “She thought this was a real fur coat,” she beamed, as I walked with her. Marlene had finally won a round of “Guess How Much I Paid for This.”
