My Honey

Mom came walking down the hall as I was going into her room. I stopped and gave her a hug.  “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m getting ready to go home,” she answered. I followed her back into the living room and she opened the door to the porch and then exclaimed, “”Oh!  That’s cold!” and quickly shut the door.

She sat on her rocking chair and took her medications as I gave them to her. Then she pointed over to where Dad sat on the love seat and said, “That’s my honey.”

I don’t remember her ever telling me that before.  I said, “That’s your honey?”

“Yep.  That’s my honey.”

She soon got up and sat down beside Dad, throwing one of her legs over his nearest one.  She likes to sit that way often these days.  It’s not the “sit like a lady” way that she taught me when I was young, but it  just makes me smile.

And so I sat there, as we listened to the news … Mom with her leg across Dad’s leg and Dad with his arm across Mom’s lap and me across the room on the couch.  I waved at Mom, and she stopped biting her fingernails for a second and wiggled her fingers back at me, while Dad concentrated on the news.

And though I was still chilled from the bitter cold outside, my heart was warm.  I’m so thankful that even though Mom doesn’t always know Dad’s name, she knows he is her honey. And I’m so grateful they are snug in their home. Together.