I went to a P.E.O. party today, trying to get home from Northridge in time to get there by 4 pm.
In this crowd, dinner is at 4:30 or 5 pm. At least I was able to get home by 6 pm to watch the presidential debate, fleeing the bridge and other games offered.
It was good to see their faces but also sad to see the decline in health of some of those my mother's age. More canes being used, more deafness in conversations, more members missing because of health issues.
But travel to Chile and "Michy Pitchy" and important books read in book clubs.
The president had a large red circle around her left eye socket, as if she had been whacked with a door knob. She explained that she'd had surgery.
Maggie, one of the weakest, reminded me that I had wheeled my mother in through the patio last year... "You came right through there," she said, still seeing us.
Until that moment I hadn't thought about attending this same B.I.L. dinner a year ago today.
Then I remembered it all: the crisis of my mother's diarrhea in the wheelchair just after we arrived, my embarrassment at the increasing smell, my effort to stay a decent amount of time before leaving, Mom's insistence that she wanted to go home.
"Why did you go this year?" any reasonable person might ask.
Well, I am now a P.E.O. I took those vows of sisterhood. These old ladies are my sisters, dammit.
I'm teaching Monday, Wednesday, Friday, so I'm excused from the meetings at 10 am every other Friday. With this 4 pm party and the Christmas party, I feel that I will have done my duty.
Still trying to be the good little girl.