Seems obvious, doesn’t it? Words wound.
Talking over the television, I say, “Mom, how are you today?’
“Oh, okay,” she mumbles.
“I like your pink sweatshirt.”
“Is it okay if I turn off the television and take you go out for dinner? Then, on the way back, we can stop for Butter Pecan Ice Cream.”
“I want some chicken. And ice cream.”
“Okay. We can go to the little Italian restaurance you like on Taylor Street.”
“I want some chicken with mashed potatoes.”
“Okay. Do you have your keys with you?”
Your keys. Do you have them?”
“I don’t know. What keys?”
“The keys to your room. Let’s find them and turn off your television before we leave.”
“Ah, here’s your keys,” I say as I touch the ribbon around her neck. “Shall we go?”
As I push my walker towards the door, she turns to look at me and says, “What’s wrong with you?”
“I have muscular dystrophy.”
“Well, you didn’t get it from me.”
“No, Mom, I didn’t get it from you,” I reply and close the door behind us.