There and back again
8:43 a.m.
From the station centrale I walked on St. Catharine Street through the various �neighbourhoods� in the general direction of the train station. I passed by the danseuses nues establishments, with their extremely graphic representations of naked and provocative women on their neon signs (this is Montreal, after all), and the jewellery district with the sparkling bling bling in the windows (I am easily distracted by shiny things, so I had to walk quickly through there), and the shoe stores that seem to go on forever, until I reached the trendier neighbourhood with the upperclass department stores. Somewhere along the way I stopped at a middle-eastern caf� and got myself a felafel sandwich, which was not too messy until right near the end. I finally found myself at Indig0 and got to redeem my $20 gift certificate, buying two paperback fantasy novels, one of which I started reading when I got to the train station.
The train trip was also uneventful, and I arrived in Toronto around 8:00 p.m., caught a subway right away, using the remaining token in my change purse from some previous trip, and arrived at my mom�s subway stop to see her herself waiting for me at the top of the escalator. Quelle surprise! We walked back to her place, and after the requisite amount of chatting at the kitchen table, I went to bed.
Now here comes the part of the entry where I try to put the best face on what was basically an ordeal for me. I love my mother. That is a given. In her heyday she was a high-powered professional woman, judges on their benches respected what she had to say and often asked her opinion, she was erudite and articulate, and I was proud of her, especially when I could show her off to the other people who were important in my life, namely my highschool teachers. Lo how the mighty have fallen. She lives alone, going for days without seeing a soul. The whole time I was there, she talked non-stop. The only time it was quiet was when I was asleep, in the bathroom (and then not always), or when she and I both retired to our separate rooms for a rest. I met Jenn for a date at the Future Bakery on Sunday night, and as I was leaving the house, my mom was bringing up new topics of conversation, even after I said, �Okay, I�m going now, bye!� I did manage to practise singing while I was there, but both times, seated at the piano going through my repertoire, I had to tell her, �Okay Mummy, you have to be quiet, I�m practising now.�
Any opportunity for her to open her mouth and talk was seized. This included during meals, with her mouth full of whatever we happened to be eating. I spent a lot of time sighing and looking away and trying to keep my cool. I just kept telling myself, �This is only until Tuesday morning.� In the meantime I was a very helpful and dutiful daughter. We went through her wardrobe and determined what could be salvaged, what needed altering, and what was beyond hope. I got a dress out of the deal, a dress she knitted when I was very young that fits me very well and looks like hell on her. I cooked for her, gave her some tips on how she could make her food tastier without adding salt (I recommended saut�eing everything in a bit of olive oil with lots of fresh garlic), and was companionable. We played cribbage, conversed about this and that (I too got to speak my piece, but not nearly as much as she did) and we went on a very long walk on Sunday that got her endorphins flowing and she felt great. We tried it again the next afternoon, but it was too hot and she had overdone it the day before. Interestingly enough, during that very long walk, she didn�t stop talking once, seriously, and I was amazed that she didn�t run out of breath. For me the walks were agony, since we went at a snail�s pace, and I got home and had to put up my poor feet.
Anyway, it was a good visit and I�m glad I went. I got to see her function in her own environment and observed how she manages independently. I interfered as little as possible. I am concerned that my brother, who tends to be bossy, and his wife, who is a maven fon alle ding (a know-it-all) will be unbearable when they come to visit in a few weeks. Watching her do the simplest of things, such as opening a jar or putting margarine on her toast, is frustrating to the max. I know that my brother will start telling her what to do, or worse try to do things for her, and my sister-in-law will be full of �advice�. She doesn�t need this shit. She lives by herself and she functions adequately on her own. I will have to write him and tell him that even though inside he will by crying to say something or do something, to keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself. And ditto for his wife.
The ride home was also uneventful. I sat next to an older woman from Paris who was in Canada visiting members of her family. She was very sweet and quiet, spoke only French (which was no problem for me, after all I learned my French from anglophones who had studied in Paris, n�est-ce pas?) and feigned sleep for most of the trip, which allowed me to read the book I bought from Janice before I left. The walk from the gare centrale to the bus station took only a half hour, and I got to observe some of Montreal�s more whacky behaviour. At the corner of St. Catharine and Berri a bunch of kids, one on each corner, dressed in grass skirts and coconut bras over their jeans and t-shirts, were handing out little packages of ketchup to the passersby. I had on my �I am deaf and dumb and mostly blind� facial expression, and avoided them.
Hubby was late picking me up from the bus station, but then yesterday was registration at the U. and he was called at the last minute to put out fires when he got a voice message that the guy he had hired to teach the musical skills course backed out and classes started this morning at 8:30. After dropping my bag off at home, we picked up Buddy Boy and went to Village Grec for a greasy souvlaki meal (vegetarian, no mushrooms) which reminded us all night of what we had eaten. I got caught up on my diary reading but was too tired to update, so I dropped into the chatroom for a couple of minutes and then went to bed.
By the way, it is twocoffees� birthday today, and since she and I seem to be hitting it off much better than we did at first, I�d like to wish her Happy Birthday publicly.
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