Bluck

Bubber is sick and I am sick. SK is the annoyingly healthy ox that he always is. So evil. Haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch, which I didn’t keep down. Bubber is not keeping anything down either. Being sick just isn’t like it used to be. I remember curling up in bed, with tissues and cough drops placed on the night table, and waiting for mom to get home with the promised chocolate shake. She’d call throughout the day, “just to check in”…her soothing voice always made me feel loved and cared about.

She worked for the American Red Cross then. I was a pre-teen and didn’t get the cuddling that I enjoyed in my earlier years because I had arrived at the age of shunning. It took me a long time to get there—my sister insists that I’d still be letting my mother dress me if I still lived in her home. What’s so wrong with letting someone care for you? Delivered with the shake though, was always a lingering kiss on the forehead to determine temperature and then a quick squeeze prefacing the dart from the room to heat up some soup.

Anyway, mom was the volunteer coordinator and a clown. True dat, you heard me right, she was a clown. She dressed up, big shoes, make-up and all and went to nursing homes and lord knows where to entertain. She got me into it too. I learned to juggle and do tricks with ropes and even make balloon dogs. Clowning is an art form I never mastered, but I’m pretty sure my mom did. She could even pour water into a newspaper funnel without getting it wet! To this day, she is dazzled by a magic trick. Her eyes get really bright and you can see the laughs in her cheeks minutes before it arrives and, “Tah-da! Here’s your chocolate shake!” My mom rocks.