I noticed something about my mother over the years. She is shrinking!!!! I don't mean the normal inch or two that most nonagenarians experience over the course of their lives due to gravity and compressed discs, but I mean some serious shrinkage.
I first noticed on a trip to Coos Canyon in Byron, Maine. I took my mother to see the waterfall and a popular place for gold panning:
After a few moments enjoying the scenery, my mother decided to take a rest and found a nearby chair to rest her diminutive frame. It was then I noticed how tiny my mother had become over the years:
I mean, not only could her feet not touch the ground, but they barely exited the seat of the chair! What was happening to her?
She claimed she was 4 ft 9 inches on her driver's license, but c'mon! She couldn't even extend over the dashboard to even drive. What started out as using two pillows to sit on to see over a steering wheel had digressed to a point there was no way she could even touch the brake and accelerator! I wonder if they make special handicapped vehicles for women of her stature?
Not only that, but she was getting quite disoriented in her old age. In fact, I decided to put up a sign beside her, so when she finally exited the chair she would know where to go;
When it was time to leave, I solicited the help of a passing stranger to aid me in removing this small, but heavy matriarch from her seat. How can such a small woman be so heavy? Has she been eating too much iron?
We finally got her out of the chair and into the car. At this point my mother said she was hungry from all the physical exertion. Well, since we were in Maine I offered to buy my mother a lobster. But, being cheap as I am, I offered her only the one pound, soft shell variety. She was happy so we were off to find one of those crustaceans.
I picked out the smallest lobster I could find for my tiny mother:
But, next to her it was huge! Was she continuing to shrink before my very eyes?
"I can't possibly eat all that", my mother proclaimed.
"But, they don't allow the capturing of smaller lobsters in this state, ma", I replied . "You'll just have to just eat a lobster roll for the next month".
That made her happy (at least as happy as my mother gets), After eating, we were headed back to her home.
On the drive back my mother asked if we could stop and get an axe on the way. With winter coming she wanted to chop some firewood and had broken her last axe.
"Mom, you're way too small to chop firewood", I told her. But she was adamant she could still do it. Some people live in denial, so rather than argue I stopped at the hardware store and bought her a small axe:
Good luck, Ma!
Well, my mother is turning 92 years old in a few days. At the shrinking rate she is going we will have to move her into a doll house within a few years.
Happy Birthday Ma! Don't try to blow out all 92 candles. It will take you a month!