Sitting in an airport always has the same effect on me. I get comtemplative. Today is no different as I wait for my flight back to my family with an hour layover in cincinnati after a wonderful week with my mom and sis. I even got a little weepy listening to the message my mom left on my cell after dropping me at the airport. It was so good to be with her.
It looks like it has become a tradition, this trip in october.
After the death of my stepdad last year, the traditional trip that he and my mom took to Las Vegas every year to celebrate her birthday morphed into the three of us girls having the time together. It is a time that I truly treasure even though I mourn what precipitated it.
My mom turned 81 this year but you would never know it with us girls trying to keep pace with her.
I don't know if it is her physical health or her bouyant personality that contributes to her energy, probably the latter for all the junk food she consumes. Upon arrival at her timeshare she unpacked a host of snacks and candy that left my sister and I shaking our heads and laughing. She is the only person I know that can polish off a bag of Doritos pairing it with White Zinfindel.
I think she will live forever for all the preservatives she consumes.
But as my sister Marta and I kid her about her poor dietary choices she just smiles as she offers us chocolate covered raisins and miniature milky ways...
I swear.
For a woman who has lost two children, had four miscarraiges, lost a brother and sister to cancer being caretaker to both, as well as caretaker to her own mother until her death, endured a phylandering first husband for 26 years and the dreadful and sudden loss of her beloved second husband who adored her, and whom she adored, she is an amazingly upbeat person.
But that is the fruit of a strong faith.
Spending time with her in vegas, sight-seeing, laughing, and yes...gambling (she loves those penny slots) was a blast but occasionally bitter sweet as she continued to talk about my stepdad in terms as if he was still here, refering to things as "this is how George and I do it", or "We always order this", and other such comments.
But it is all good.
He is still with us in a way. After the trip I heard her greet one of the many pictures of him in her apartment with...
"Hello sweety".
He continues to grace the place in all those pictures that she keeps, and through the large empty red leather chair that was his favorite.
He is truly missed.
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Girls At Play
The week started out with a bang as the three of us landed in mom's timeshare just long enough to change our clothes, unpack endless junk food and then head out for a vegas evening. We managed a little lunch of salad and lobster ravioli (split three ways) at the Bellagio. Then playing a few slots (just for good measure), something I know I could not make a habit of, I admit there is a bit of fun to be had when you play a game that suddenly goes into a bonus round that pays off sixty bucks in a blink. In contrast it is not so fun when a machine promises to pay in "just one more spin" only to take that sixty bucks right back.
You win some and lose some.
But watching my mother take twenty dollars and play it for an entire day is a real hoot. A gift I apparently do not have. Not to mention she has an uncanny ability for winning even if it is in twenty cent increments. What fun it was sitting at a slot machine next to her while she coaxed and talked to the characters on the machine, teasing them into giving her a win by waving her hands over them, rubbing the screen and talking to them sweetly...
I swear they listened every time.
I especially liked watching this big guy sitting at a slot machine next to her who kept sending glances sideways (him losing) as she won bonus round after bonus round turning her twenty into a hundred confessing to me later that she didn't even know how that particular game worked.
an angel on her shoulder?
I think it is George.
Mom and Marta laughing in front of Bellagio fountain
Mom taking the picture of me and Marta with her fingers over the lens.
Me pointing out to mom that she had her fingers over the lens;-)
The final picture of Marta and I. (without the fingers)
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