by Kathleen Brewin Lewis
The phone rang and she answered it. It was her mother.
“Meriweather, I hope I’m not calling too early.”
“Hey, Mama. No, I’ve been up a while. How’s everything?”
“Pretty good. Yesterday I went to see Dr., Dr. … ” Her voice trailed off.
“No, the other one.”
“Yes, and I want you to know that I know that I am having some word retrieval problems. I know it, okay? And Dr. Dorsey said to tell you and everybody else that the best thing to do is to go ahead and give me the word I’m searching for, don’t make me keep groping for it, just go ahead and give it to me. That way I won’t lose my train of thought.”
“Okay, Mama,” Meriweather said. “I can do that. What else did you do yesterday?”
“Went to the Golf Club and had lunch with Peggy. The chef had made that good …” She paused. “That dish I really like.”
“The chicken salad with the grapes and the pecans?”
“No … no. Salmon! Salmon. He fixes it in a light cream sauce, with red bell pepper and green beans. It’s delicious.”
“Good, honey. Is Peggy excited about her granddaughter’s wedding?”
“Oh, yes,” her mother said. “We rode over to … to – that dress shop I like.”
“Farrington’s. She’s got her dress for the wedding, but she’s still trying to find something for the rehearsal dinner.”
“Did she find something?”
“Oh, yes. A very pretty silk skirt with a matching lace jacket.”
“What color was it?”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“I’m thinking,” she said. “That color that’s a pale purple.”
“Well, that sounds pretty. Do you know what you are going to wear to the wedding?”
“I’m going to wear the mint green cocktail suit I wore to Pastor Tillman’s son’s wedding. It’s a different crowd and this group won’t have seen it before.”
“Good plan, Mama. That suit looks really nice on you. What’s on your agenda for today?”
“I thought I’d call Hosea and see if he’s got any fresh crabmeat. I thought I’d make some crab au gratin and have some girls over for lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s a nice idea.”
“Thought I’d make some red rice and open a can of, of … oh, shoot!”
“Asparagus. Maybe have a fruit salad, too.”
“Well, that sounds delicious. I’ll be right over,” Meriweather replied. And they both laughed.
“All rightee,” said her mother. “Well, it’s good to hear your sweet voice.”
“You too, honey. We’d like to come for a visit Memorial Day week-end. It’s a three-day week-end. Would that be a good time?”
“Any time’s a good time. I’ll look forward to it. I like having something to look forward to.”
“Okay, good,” said Meriweather. “Put it on your calendar.”
“And I’ll call you next time. I’ll call you in a couple of days. I love you, Mama.”
“I love you, too.”
“Bye, darling. Oh – Meriweather?”
“When is Memorial Day?”
“The end of May, Mama. The last Monday in May.”
“Don’t forget now.”
“Oh, I won’t,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “I wouldn’t think of forgetting.”
Kathleen Brewin Lewis is an Atlanta writer (born and raised in Savannah) whose work has appeared or is forthcoming in Weave, The Red Clay Review, The Prose-Poem Project, Cerise Press Journal, Like the Dew, Georgia Backroads magazine and Bookideas.com. She recently received her Master of Arts in Professional Writing from Kennesaw State University and is an assistant editor for a new online literary journal, Flycatcher: A Journal of Native Imagination.