Never be rude to your mother

I was laying on Abe's bed when the phone rang. It was my mom. I rolled my eyes. We had already spoken three times that day, and Abraham just got home from work. I wanted to visit with him.

I picked up the phone and sighed. My mom prattled about the movie she had just seen. She had recognized the actor from a previous movie.

"Why are you quiet?" she asked.

"I dunno. That was a scintillating story." I replied.

I was being a sarcastic butthole and I knew it. I didn't want to talk on the phone again. And if I let it go to voicemail, she'd just call every two minutes.

Instead of joking back with me, my mother's feelings were hurt. I was crushed.

About five minutes later the phone rang again. Just when I was finally able to talk to Abraham about his day. It was my mom. Again.

"Oh my god!" I shouted frustrated.

"Hello this is Cindy. I'm a nurse. You're mom's been in a car accident...

She continued with the details, but I couldn't hear them over the sirens of the firetrucks and ambulances.

"... she's being taken to the hospital."

I got off the phone and started looking for my shoes.

"You're going now?" Abraham asked. "We don't know what's wrong yet."

"My mom's going to the hospital. I'm not leaving her there by herself."

That's the difference between men and women. Men help by action; women help by caretaking.

Abraham drove me to the hospital. It was a rainy Friday night. The emergency room was filled with weirdos. We were ushered to her room.

"Is this because I was mean to you?" I joked as I entered the door.

She didn't answer me. She was in pain from the airbag and steering column. My mother, who I had been horrible to, had blood on her favorite sweater. There were droplets of blood on her brand new leather handbag she was so proud of. I picked up the bag, spat and wiped it clean.

"Was there blood on it?" She asked.

"No."

My mom doesn't know what happened. A car appeared in front of her and she t-boned it. She doesn't know the type of car it was. She doesn't know if the other driver was hurt. She was trapped in her car.

An officer entered the room. He must have been straight out of boot camp He issued my mom a ticket for running a red light. She argued that she was traveling with the flow of traffic. She had never received a ticket nor been in a car accident. He was curt and ignored her pain.

"He could use some improvement on his bedside manor," I observed loud enough so he that could hear me.

The accident was at 5:45 pm. We left the emergency room at 1:30 am. It took that long for one X-ray and one visit from one doctor. My mother was fine. The car was not.

Abraham drove my mother and me back to her house. I still had to get my dog and pick up my medication so I could stay with her. And then I had to find an all-night pharmacy. It was after 3 am when I got to bed.

Lesson learned: never be rude to your mother.

***

Abraham came over to the house for lunch the following afternoon. With him he brought a bouquet of flowers and a get-well balloon.

"My mom told me to bring flowers with me. I said the flowers wouldn't heal her, and my dad agreed, but she was so insistent that I told her I would say they were from her," he told me.

Once again, the difference between men and women.

"You set the bar high. Now everyone's going to feel like a jerk when they show up to visit without flowers," I kissed him.

My mother asked for Abraham's parent's address so she could thank them properly.

"My parents said they got a letter from your mom," Abraham told me a week later, somewhat embarrassed.

"Did they tell you what the letter said?" I asked.

"No."

"It said as thankful as she was for the flowers, she was more thankful for the person who brought them. She told your parents to be proud of you and that they must be wonderful people to raise someone like you."

Abraham beamed from ear to ear. I'm not sure I'd ever seen him smile so fully. It reminded me of a child's smile after she gets a certificate for perfect attendance in school. That simple, unabashed joy.

He was right to be proud of himself. My mother's words were true.