Mom, daughter switch roles (4/18/05)

Going shopping with my mother is like shopping with a toddler just learning to walk. There is no zipping in and out of the store and getting back home in a jiffy. It is much slower and a lot of giggling is involved. Just getting out of the driveway takes forever.

We have to make sure she doesn’t trip over anything on the way to the car. Then the walker gets folded up and stowed in the back seat. The wheelchair is also folded and hoisted into the trunk, just in case. I didn’t realize those things were so heavy and awkward to lift. It reminds me how out of shape I have become.

Once we get to the store it is hard to resist the urge to let her out at the door as we have done for so many years. Instead she hands me the blue hang tag that allows us to park in a handicapped space. I unpack the walker and set it a few feet in front of her so that she will take a couple of steps by herself. It reminds me of when I used to place toys just out of the reach of my baby to encourage her to crawl. She knows what I am doing and laughs at me, but she walks unassisted. I am as proud of her as I can be.

We make our way slowly through the newly-built store and look for pots and pans. They are too expensive until I offer to pick up half the cost. We go in search of pansies and violets and stop to rest on the benches so thoughtfully provided. On the way to the flowers we are distracted by a display of gardening gloves. At only 88¢ a pair they are too hard to resist. Soon the cart is filled with flower boxes, fertilizer and plants. These are the toys we crave.

We have to sit down and rest again before we go in search of crafts. It is a long walk to the back of the store but she does not wince in pain nor is she out of breath. I put my arm around her frequently to make sure we have not walked too far for her new knee. On the way to the cashier we stop and add more goodies to the overflowing cart.

It is a long trek to the car and I resist pulling up close to the entrance to pick her up. I can tell she is getting tired. I am glad we have not had to use the wheelchair. It has been a long time since I could go shopping with her and feel like we were equals. We pull into a drive-thru and buy her a chocolate milkshake for the way home. I used to stop and buy a small treat for my daughter when I picked her up from nursery school, years and years ago. It gave me the same pleasure to make a loved one happy.

This business of switching roles in middle age is strange. I am forever protective of my mother although she has always made me feel as if I knew so much more than she about nearly everything. In reality I know nothing at all.

I watch parents with their children. They touch them as frequently as I touch my mother and with the same tenderness. They buy them treats just to watch them smile as I do with her. They tease and laugh the way I do with my mother. They slow their pace to match short little legs as I slow my steps to the steady click clack of the walker. I wonder when it was that we were both quick and confident, neither having to wait for the other.

Once we get back to her house, I plant pansies in the new flower boxes. I feel like a small child playing in the dirt and being watched over by my mom. Our roles have switched back. Now, I am the daughter and she is the parent.

It reminds me of a playground swing. We go back and forth knowing that one day the swing will stop and we will be alone with only our memories. For now, I’ll enjoy her as much as I can and hope the ride lasts a long, long time.[[In-content Ad]]