Eight Glasses

Mom wakes up all peppy. She waves her finger at me.

Gen: I have not had one glass of water since I’ve been here. All they give me is that small glass with juice.

Mark: I’m the “they” and I’ve tried to give you water, but you don’t like it. I’ll get you some now.

Gen: Make it cold!

(I return with a glass. She guzzles it.)

Gen: You’re supposed to drink eight glasses a day.

Mark: Where did you hear that?

Gen: I don’t know. A long time ago.

Mark: Well, you’ve got seven more to go.

Gen: (dismissing me with a wave) No thanks.

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Published by A Cup of Tea on the Commode, a memoir

The parent/child role reversal might not have been unique to me, but how I dealt with it was. "A Cup of Tea on the Commode" chronicles my multi-tasking adventures, filling my mother’s last years with love, laughter, and joy. Though not always successful, I came pretty damn close.

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