We Oughta Get Some Tide

Walking through the aisles of Target, my mom and I read our list of items needed and pulled them off the shelves and into the cart. She likes to push the cart because it relieves her from the embarrassment of walking with a cane. I hold on to the front end so she doesn't push too fast and lose her balance. She doesn't complain like I did when I was little.

"NO! I got this. I don't need your help." I yelled.

She just strolls along. We work as a team.

"I think we need some laundry detergent," Mom reminds me.

"Yeah, I think we have that on the list, don't we?" I ask her, knowing it's holding firm at number three on the white piece of notebook paper she has in her hand.

"Oh ok," she says relieved.

We pace through a few more aisles. She is getting in her only exercise of the day while I am exhausted from teaching all day and cooking dinner and walking the dog.

"We probably need to get some washing powder," Mom says.

There are days when my mom will use a phrase from a long time ago or refer to something in a way I have never hear her do so in my life time and I will suddenly see the disease rearing it's ugly head in the nicest and gentle-ist of ways.

"Ok," I agree. "That's a few rows down here." I point ahead to the front of the store.

Quickly, I grab an outrageously priced gallon of milk from the dairy section. While she peruses the ice cream. She chooses chocolate and we continue on our route toward the cleaning products. We turn down the laundry aisle.

"Oh!" she says loudly, "We oughta get some Tide."

There are other days when the constant repetition of words or questions or phrases grates on my nerves. It frustrates and agitates and I have to continually remind myself that it's not her fault. I have to willfully suppress the desire to say, "yeah, you just said that" or "we already talked about that" because I don't want to hurt her feelings.

"Yep, I was thinking the same thing," I said, hauling a bottle of liquid Tide into the cart.

"Good," Mom sighs loudly.