One of my favorite cartoons is Scooby Doo. When I arrive to visit my Mom today, I feel another mystery lurking. A vase of flowers is in my Mom’s apartment. I don’t dare ask where they came from because she will be unable to give me an answer. This cycle has repeated itself dozens of times in the past few years. If only she could share a memory. Those days are long gone and I’m happy she remembers me. Most conversations are me sharing my day or recounting a memory from our past.
The mysteries I face usually center around something that is missing — like her PJs. We would buy new pairs and they would disappear from her apartment within days.
Today, a vase of flowers has appeared and I’m curious where it came from. I feel like Daphne from Scooby Doo (except for the rich and glamorous part). She was never one to solve the mystery but was able to help through some clumsy act. I’m hoping I will fall over a clue as I visit with my Mom. Today, I am unable to unearth anything.
It’s nice to know that someone shared an act of kindness on my Mom. Even if she doesn’t remember, the positive energy shared on her spills over to everyone that visits. Pleased.