Conversation over Breakfast

One of the hardest parts of elder care is role reversal. Apparently, it bothers Bea, too. We discuss the subject yet again one morning early.

BEA: “You’re my daughter, and I’m your mother. So I should take care of you.”

ME: “You did. Now it is my turn.”

BEA, after much thought: “Thank you.”

Bea is eating ice cream, slowly, savoring each spoonful. She pauses again and furrows her brow. That grey matter is getting a real workout today.

BEA: “I guess I’m just one of those queer people …”

I wait for her to elucidate but she doesn’t.

ME: “What do you mean?”

BEA: “People who don’t die.”

ME: “Oh! Well, you’ll die soon enough. In the meantime, we can enjoy having you here with us.”

Bea offers a faint, slighted embarrassed smile, like a young girl who has been told she is pretty by people she has only just met.

BEA: “What is the name of this place?”

I am not sure whether she is asking about Wellfleet or not. So I choose not, seizing the opportunity for self-promotion, a behavior that has become second-nature.

ME: “Chez Sven Bed & Breakfast, which makes sense since you’re having breakfast. Imagine, a place that serves chocolate ice cream instead of scrambled eggs and bacon!”

BEA: “Sounds ideal …”