Me: | Hi, Mom. How are you? |
Mom: | Fine, but every time I step out my door a male voice yells at me, 'GET THE HELL BACK TO YOUR ROOM!' |
Me: | Ahhh . . well they are wanting to protect you and others from the virus. |
Mom: | I know. But, it sure is boring. It is not good when an old woman has nothing to do. [Said with a chuckle] |
Me: | Hey, why don't you do what many others are doing around the world and go out onto your Balcony and sing. (She loves to sing.) |
Mom: | If I did that (she said sternly), they would come and lock me up! |
Me: | No, they wouldn't. People would love it. You will be giving joy and hope to the world! |
Mom: | What would I sing? |
Me: | How about? ... Somewhere.... |
Mom: | [She suddenly breaks out in song and went straight to verse two]
Somewhere over the rainbow Bluebirds fly Birds fly over the rainbow Why then, oh why can't I? |
Photo courtesy of my sister Faith Sheppard Bateman.
Mom: | Do you have the virus? |
Me: | Nope! |
Mom: | My TV has it. |
Me: | Oh?! |
Mom: | Yeah. The Virus is streaming across my TV all day long! |
Me: | [ Chuckle ] |
Mom: | I would like to kick the ass of the guy who invented the damn virus! (Spoken with the reprimanding tone reminiscent of how she would speak to me as a naughty child) |
Me: | Me too, mother. Me too ๐ |
Mom: | And you can quote me on that! |
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