I've Lost My Mommy

It was one of those days.

A day when we both had a lot to get accomplished, but more importantly, a day to spend together...sort of.

It began with my mother's doctor's appointment. All things these days begin with an appointment it seems.

Then we made a bee line for breakfast as my mom had been fasting in order to have bloodwork done. We had the big ol' Sizzlin' Skillet breakfast at Denny's, which took us sailing right through the day until the mandatory stop at Tim Horton's on the way home.

Other than that, it was a shop until you drop kind of day. We were lugging such a large number of heavy bags by the time we arrived at Bath and Body Works that I offered to take it all back to the car, repark the car, and meet Mother at the far end of the mall in the toddler department at J.C. Penney. Sigh. One might think that that would have been an easy assignment.

Half an hour of shopping for the grands later and with purchases piling high, still no mother. So I checked out and went looking.

I followed every white-haired lady I saw; I followed every lady wearing a fleecy jacket; I followed every lady with that certain limp. I grew more and more anxious.
Perhaps I've been reading too much Are You My Mother by P.D. Eastman...

My internal dialog cranked up and I imagined myself before a mall security officer requesting an all points bulletin. I retraced my many steps thinking "what would Mother do?" I knew what I would've done...taken a nap on one of the many benches strategically placed at exits. One poor fellow seated on one of said benches asked if I'd lost anyone — wonder what gave it away. I tried to grin, "Yes, I've lost my mommy." At least, he got a chuckle out of it.

After an additional 45 minutes, I found her. Right there rummaging through men's gloves in the men's department. Does that sound anything like the toddler department? Hmmmmm?

Quickly, I assessed my emotional meter and decided to clarify rather than confront. "Mother," says I, "How was I supposed to know to find you here?"

She looked up at me with a warm smile, her glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose and said, "Hello, Dear, I've been shopping in women's lingerie."