Giraffes, Dentures, & Coke-Floats

Cruising  Sonic with my friends was once a favorite pastime.  I was 16, had a newly awarded driver’s license, and  enjoyed the long desired independence coveted by every teen. When you live in a small town, you have few options for entertainment. At Sonic, you could see and be seen by every other teen cruising, and as a bonus you could add another plastic giraffe, monkey or camel to your collection.  I drove an old, standard transmission, Toyota pickup.  It was two-toned, baby blue and rust; the rust was not factory original.  Despite its blemishes and inability to easily turn left or ascend hills, I loved that truck. Like teens of every generation, I was living in the moment, no matter how simple.  

Sometime between 16 and adulthood, this ability to easily seize the moment began to wane and was replaced with planning for the future and worry.  I felt reassured that I was on the right path, after all, my peers were now investing in their 401(k)s and climbing the ladder.  

Maybe it is exactly because I plan and worry about matters of consequence that when the opportunity to seize the moment offers itself, the feeling is especially sweet.  It doesn’t have to be grand.  Some of the sweetest moments are found in simplicity.

My mother has Alzheimer’s disease.   It has not only stolen her memory and ability to find words for a conversation but it has also numbed her old personality.  Mom was a creative, stubborn, feisty and opinionated woman.  Alzheimer’s has taken this from her, and taken much of her from us. Lately, few things bring her obvious joy, but she does delight in being surrounded by family – even when she doesn’t always know us, music, old photographs, and trips to the salon.  I realize, now, that when she was a young mother raising children, she rarely went to the beauty salon and never enjoyed a manicure or pedicure.  It would not have been in the budget or her focus.  So when I take her for a perm, a new style or a pedicure, it is a joy for both of us.  

Today was a salon day. I called to remind Mom, and after struggling with the words, I realized she was asking me to drive her in the convertible, “Let’s go topless.”  And so we did … the car … not us (that would be an entirely different story).  Reaching no more than 35 mph, the wind was blowing her hair.  I heard laughter, only to glance over and see Mom raise both arms above her head reaching for the sky and waving.  Next thing I knew, she removed her dentures and carefully placed them in MY lap for safekeeping; one never knows what wild thing could happen when you are laughing, the wind is blowing and you are in a convertible going 35 mph.  I am not sure Mom knew where we were going, but in the moment she felt joy, and so did I.   After being pampered at the salon, I suggested we get a Coke-Float from Sonic.  Mom used to make these for us when I was a kid; I am always hoping to jostle her memories with experiences.  The drive, although topless, was less animated than before, and teeth stayed in.   I asked Siri to play Mom’s man-crush, Daniel O’Donnell.   Mom sang along.  We pulled in to Sonic; I could not help but smile.  Here I was, decades later, cruising Sonic, with my mom, music blasting (it is questionable calling Daniel O’Donnell music),  and Living in the Moment.  Only one thing could have made the day any better  … a plastic giraffe on our drinks!  

– How Sweet It Is –