I love my mother. She loves me, flaws and all, in her own way. She was sixty-one years old before she lived alone for the first time in her life. She has been divorced and widowed. I am her youngest daughter.
My mother is not one to go anywhere alone. She barely can sit in a restaurant alone much less drive to an event hosted by acquaintances by herself. This is a woman who hates change.
She is also not the type to call me unless she has something to say. In a recent phone call to check on her, she proclaimed, "I am going to tell you something." Uh, oh. That is never the best way to start a conversation, at least not one that is going to end well.
"I'm going to Vegas", she announces.
"Uh, okay", I think I replied. I think I was in to much shock to really comprehend what she was saying.
I can't picture my mother in Vegas. I have heard of people my mother's age moving there for the dry desert heat but my mother living it up in a hotel on the Strip... I can't see it in my mind and rest assured I have a very vivid imagination.
When I think of Vegas, I think of The Hangover which I will admit was a pretty funny movie. I think of drive-thru wedding chapels, spectacular shows, noisy slot machines, craps tables, poker, and bachelors/bachelorettes having a weekend of fun.
My mother is going to take her first plane ride. Is she going alone? Of course not! At first she told me she was going to go with my sister. I couldn't see that happening. Two days later in another phone conversation my mother told me what I had suspected, my sister had reneged on her promise to go with my mom but my mom had found a replacement. I love my sister but reliability is not one of strongest traits. When I asked who she responded with, "have you or B (my husband) received any phone calls recently."
I hate 20 questions. I hate suspense. I hate surprises, in fact things rarely surprise me. Yet, I was surprised. My mother finally admitted that she had called my mother-in-law (who she sees two-three times a year). They are going to Vegas together. As soon as I got off the phone I called my husband. I blurted out my mother's news.
His response, "Good for her. I'm proud of her. She called my mom all on her own without calling one of us first. I never would have thought she would be able to do it." He was right. I was proud of her to. She was doing something for herself, on her own-something she had initiated, no less.
Good for them I say. Maybe my mom is growing and proving that you are never to old to change. I bet they come back with some good stories.