Precious Memories

Precious memories, how they linger How they ever flood my soul In the stillness of the midnight Precious sacred scenes unfold Precious father, loving mother Fly across the lonely years And old home scenes of my childhood In fond memory appear
– Precious Memories	Mom, Dad, Kevin and me in August 1985.

I woke up at 10 p.m. Thursday night with intestinal flu. About 2 a.m., I moved to the bathroom floor. I was spending far more time in bathroom than in bed anyway.

Even under blankets, I shivered.

As I huddled under those covers, trying, with little success, for whatever comfort I could find, my mind flashed back to August 1986.

Dad’s boss had a cabin at Lake of the Ozarks, Mo. We were vacationing there before I went back to college. My bedroom and the master suite were connected by a bathroom. Even though master suite had its own bathroom, a door opened to this bathroom as well.

I woke up in the middle of the night with an intestinal flu bug, complete with high fever. I wanted to disturb no one, so tried to be very quiet. Worshiping the porcelain god is not a quiet activity, no matter how a person tries to muffle the sound. And my mother had acute hearing.

She found me sitting in the tub with sweat pouring off me. Tub was within leaning distance of the toilet, so was quite convenient. If I made a mess, I could just wash it down the drain. Besides, tub was the only place I could get cooler.

I tried to convince her to return to bed. I was a big girl and could take care of myself. But, about this time, I started shivering uncontrollably. What misery! So much for convincing her to leave me.

All night long, she was up with me, warming me when the shivers took control, cooling me when the heat returned, and cleaning up the inevitable mess.

Now on my own bathroom floor, I longed for my mother to come help me. Hubby was at work and knew nothing of my predicament. Mr. Kitty did his best to comfort Mistress, but no pet is the same as a loving hand on my forehead.

When Hubby came home, he cleaned up the mess I’d left. What a wonderful husband!

Still, I would have loved to feel my mother’s loving touch in the night.