The oatmeal raisin journey

You either laugh with it or cry over it. I suppose it is better to laugh, and I assure I mean no mockery towards my mother and her condition as I tell tales such as this.

She's taken quite a liking lately to these particularly large oatmeal raisin cookies which are kind of hard to find. Naturally enough then, when any of us siblings find them we buy her one (or more if they're available). Especially as her doctor's orders are to encourage her to eat just about anything unless in absurd quantities, we keep things like those cookies at the fronts of our minds.

So when I had Mom with me yesterday running errands and stopped for gas, I was delighted to see exactly one of those gems in a basket by the cash register. It was the only one (of course) but still, you take what you can get.

Hopping back in the car I said, "Look what I found!" as I handed her the cookie.

"Is that for me?" she asked, childlike and with a wide smile.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, tickled myself.

She said she would have it later, after lunch. She's still a Mom and saw no reason to spoil a meal. She set it on the console between our seats.

A little while later we ate. A little while after that she looked down and saw the cookie. "Is this mine?" she asked, wide eyed and hopefully.

"Yep, Have at it," I encouraged her. But she decided to wait a bit.

We were gone about five hours, and several times we had similar exchanges. Each time she put off eating it. Whatever; I didn't care that much. It was hers after all. She could have it when she wanted.

Eventually I had her back at her house. She dutifully picked up her oatmeal raisin treat, and I helped her up her front steps and inside.

Once in the kitchen she went to my brother Pat and thrust the cookie into his hands. "Here. I brought you something," she explained. He happily took it (I don't begrudge Patrick that BTW).

I just sighed and half-smiled. What are you gonna do?

I'll buy her one of those oatmeal raisin cookies the next time I see one just the same.