night scene with ethereal mother

It’s eleven p.m. on Friday and I’m giving my mom a lymphatic drainage massage of her legs because they’ve been swelling up, hard. She’s laying in bed with her legs up in the air and I’m sort of gently squeegying them toward her heart with long strokes.

“Oh, what a bother it is to have a body,” she says, “All these ministrations I require. I would rather be some sort of ethereal being.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’ll get to be an ethereal being next!” I say.

We talk about death. Her nickname for herself is Solamente Huesos ~ Only Bones.

“Oh, isn’t that right! That is what’s coming next. Well, in that case, I rather like to have a body. It’s pretty nice.”

“And you made quite a grand job of it! You even made four other bodies with your body.”

“Oh! I did, didn’t I. I was using my full powers.” Her waist-length hair is spread out underneath her dark navy silk pajamas. I’ve already put the hot capiscum pain patch on her back.

“And your full wits,” I say.

“And all of my wits. Except for the wits I seem to have given you.”

“No, that kind of thing multiplies. You can’t run out, you just get more, exponentially, the more wits you give away. It’s like the cosmos.”

“I guess I’ve done all-right, then! I did well. But listen here, legs! Listen here, phlegm! Get out of there!”

“Get out of there, lymph, get back up to the heart!”

“I think they’re getting smaller already.”

“They definitely are.”

I finish the massage and she lowers her legs. I roll her socks back on.

“My good sleep socks,” she says. “Can I have my cat?”

“Your cat is already in position,” I say. Her cat is purring on her pillow just above her head. She reaches up with her good arm, over her head, to pet the kitty with the back of her hand.

I pull the long curtains over the windows closed, with a swoosh of heavy fabric and metal on metal. “You ready for the lights out?”

“I am! Toodle-oo,” she says. “Mwah, mwah!”

“Mwah!”