My Dearest Mother…

It is fast food Monday’s around here at Andrew’s casa.  Every Monday, mom brings Maggie and I hamburgers and fries.  It is a treat I relish.  I don’t get to eat out very much, and love a good hamburger if you can call McDonald’s good.  It tastes fine to me.

“How are you feeling?” my mother just asked pulling up to the front of my house in her car.

“I’ve been pacing the floor all afternoon again,” I replied solemnly. “I did manage to take a nap at lunch, though, and that was amazing.”

“What makes you do that?” mom asked. “Don’t you get tired?”

“The anxiety,” I replied. “Walking takes my mind off my problems, seems to soothe the anxiety, and I watch TV as I pace from room to room.”

Mom handed me my and Maggie’s hamburgers and fries in a McDonald’s sack. I reached into the backseat to get my three diet Cokes to drink with my meal.  Mom had also gotten me a big bag of Crystal Light of various flavors. 

“I worry about you,” mom said. “Something is still not right with your medications.”

“I know. I am hoping Dr. Kern will help me this Wednesday.  I am hoping we are going to the psychiatrist.  It is about time. I was supposed to see him again in one month.”

“Call me tonight and let me know how you feel,” mom told me. “Eat you some supper, drink your Cokes, and get to feeling better.”

I thanked mom – sad to see her go.  I get so lonely sometimes.  She didn’t stick around today most likely to go crawl in the bed or read books as she normally does in the afternoons.  She had been to Julia’s earlier in the day – the weekly meeting of the Catholic ladies.   They have finger foods and gossip about people at the Catholic church.   “I get so tired of them talking about that Catholic church,” mom will say as I laugh.  It was good seeing my mother.  I love her.  She is dear to me.  Charlie and her are the only people in my life that actually “get” me and my modus operandi.