I am talking to my mom.

In a previous post, I wrote about my conversations with my father, which have always been short, direct, and full of understood silence.  With each conversation, I have been trying to stretch the minutes with my dad.  As we both age — he in his 70s, me slouching through my 30s — we have developed a mutual understanding that the number of conversations we have left together is limited.  Every minute counts.

My mother, however, is a different story with a binary problem.  I have never had an issue stretching the minutes — only cutting off the rhythm of her exposition, especially in circumstances where I have to go to the bathroom, I’m hungry, or I’m just really exhausted.  A combination of all 3 happen during a single conversation.  Although drastically different from my father, I also value these conversations given how valuable our time is together….but, I have needs too.

Here’s an anatomy of a conversation with my mom — a 3 act play, if you will.

Act I: “Can You Hear Me Now?”

 

Act II: “Inception.”

Act 3: “Desperate, Regrettable Measures.”

 

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