It’s day three of sitting in an condo with very little heat. I’m just grateful that my bedroom is still warm. The rest of the place, including my faux leather recliner feels like an ice box. I absolutely despise wearing socks of any kind at home, so my feet freeze as soon as they hit the tile in the bathroom and kitchen.
I’ve been glued to my computer watching The Vampire Diaries and reading online or watching cooking tutorials. I’m snuggled up in my electric blanket. This is about as good as life will get for now.
As for food today, my stomach is not having it. I think it’s going to be a soup kind of day. Left over barley soup, and maybe toast for lunch.
When I got sick as a kid, I remember my mom kneeling on the floor. She’d crush ice with her sturdy wooden rolling pin and give me a bowl of ice chips to suck on for sore throats. A can of warm ginger-ale was her cure for stomach aches or nausea.
A hot bowl of chicken noodle soup was also her go-to for colds. Not just any chicken soup. But Lipton’s noodle soup. Which is still something I reach for when I’m feeling sick as someone in my forties.
Every now and then, I find myself pulling out my rolling pin and whacking the ice like my mum used to. It gives me a little smile. I have a clear vision of her in her green and black polka-dot dress and black pumps, kneeling on the laminate floor – giving the ice a good whack with the rolling pin.
It’s funny the things we miss and the memories that stick so clearly in our minds when others seem to fade away with time and age.
When I moved out from home, I would call my mum when I was sick. I remember crying on the phone because I had a cluster headache so bad that it felt like I was dying. Just hearing my mom’s voice would make me feel better. Even if I was still sick.
I remember when I stopped asking mom for help when I faced health issues in 2014. She said to my dad once “why doesn’t she call us for help?” and I told him. “Because dad, I’m an adult now. You have enough on your plate with mom’s health.”
What I wouldn’t give, to be able to call my mother now and hear her voice. Even my father can’t talk on the phone for very long these days.
I used to always say that things got easier with time. The pain of losing a parent becomes easier as you age. But in reality, as I struggle with similar issues that my mother faced, I find myself wanting her more than ever now.
I didn’t mean for this post to turn into a pity party for one. But… when you live alone and you’re single, there are days when you just wish you had someone here to be with you when you’re sick.
And today, I wish that person could be my mom.
I think I might crawl back into my bed where it’s warm. As for food, I think I’ll heat up some chicken noodle soup – just like my mom used to make.