A Family Affair...

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Papa was soon here after nine with medications and much jovial banter. We were being silly and irreverent about everything tonight.

"Now, these pills wholeheartedly increase the likelihood of whether or not I will be taking Martha to rehabilitation in the morning," I said to my father as he sat on my couch tonight looking intrigued.

He immediately began to chuckle as he handed me more pills to take out of my medication blister pack.

"See this little blue pill?" I told my father with a smile - pointing a finger at it as I held it in front of me. "That's my 'I don't give a shit' pill and makes me happy about everything."

"All these other pills are our mental fortifications from all anxiety attacks, dread, concerns, and worry," I told him. "This will allow me just to sit comfortably in the car for an hour and listen to NPR without a care in the world while mom is being rehabilitated."

"You should see your mother trying to do her exercises at home," my father said still laughing, but trying not to. "She knows she needs to do them, but they are arduous, ambiguous, and aggravating. She says they hurt. She was trying to get me to explain them to her last night. She wants an easier softer way to get through all of this."

The phone then began to loudly ring as if on cue...

I put my hand over the phone after answering it and said, "It's mother. She wants to know if I am still able to go."

My father sat on the edge of the couch listening intently to our conversation.

"Mom, I will pick you up under the portico at 8:30am in the morning," I finally told her assuaging her worries and fears. "Call me to make sure I am up."

I told my father goodnight as he was still chuckling when he walked across my front yard to his Honda.