At the Water's Edge

A Drive, A Laugh, and a Moment with Mom: What Really Matters

At the Water's Edge by Lis Nagy

I scoop up The Mama, whisk her away from the "Inmates," and head for open waters. The thrill of escape is palpable, and she is always up for an adventure. 

We pull into McD's for the coveted soft-serve vanilla ice cream and senior coffee, still being offered for $1.03, which brings a satisfied calm into the vehicle. Family, traditions, loose structure, simple pleasures, and familiarity all matter at this point in her life. And we're off.

Living on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State has its perks: water, cows, more water, an occasional sheep, trees, and mountains. We're good as long as the wheels keep turning and the views keep changing. I pull away from McD's, and The Mama asks if I would like a bite of her ice cream. I graciously decline, and relief washes over her face. As I reflect upon countless other trips and adventures with The Mama, we head toward open waters. 

I fondly remember one trip to Mt. Vernon wherein my mother “needed” to see Harvey Wolden's cows. Having just learned to drive, I was thrilled to participate in this adventure. Upon arrival at Harvey's farm, I attempted to back into a grassy alcove. Well, visibility was poor, as Harvey had failed to keep up with his growing lawn that had morphed into a small wheat field, but I was determined to get it right. And back I went, right into his wooden fence. Usually, this might not have received such a gracious response, but this afternoon, we both threw our heads back and laughed hysterically. Thankfully, Harvey was nowhere to be found, and not a single cow was harmed on that bright, sunny spring afternoon.

The Mama LOVED Jerseys

My Mom's voice jolts me back to the present day, and she asks if I want a bite of ice cream. Another soft "No thank you," and we glide down the last hill to Dungeness Landing. I avoid the designated parking stalls and slide right onto the grass, mere feet from the water's edge, and we settle in. Today has all the makings of a great outing. The sun is shining, the tide is out, and Mt. Baker reminds us that we are here for a short time within this planetary realm and that it is best to do the things that matter most as often as possible.

And so, we do. After letting The Mama know I'm still not interested in sharing her ice cream, she scrapes the last bite from the bottom of the cup, and we both breathe a sigh of relief. Gazing out across open waters brings a stillness within, and we're grateful. For one more chance to share, laugh, cry, or be. The Mama's body and mind are growing weary after so many years of getting 'er done.

Her 43-word resume would say:

Mother of 8

Grandmother of 27

Donut Lover

Postal clerk

Teacher

Nurse

Tutor

Secretary

Farmer

Adventurer

Drove to Alaska

Rode the Alaskan ferry four times and slept on the deck

Moved 50+ times

and read and wrote more than is almost humanly possible

We sit in the stillness of remembering and savor what is almost too large to conceive: a lifetime of memories hovering close and the poignant and heart-wrenching realization that her time is near, and the clock is ticking faster than ever.  

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