The Magic Word

My Mother The Dowager Duchess is coming home Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. She’s been making great strides. She must be feeling better; she’s been ordering me around… Even more than usual.

The week after surgery, she commanded, “Pillow!”

I adjusted her pillow.

Then she commanded me to, “Pour out that water. Refill it with ice and fresh.”

I asked, “What’s the magic word?”

She looked at me curiously — and imperiously — and queried, “Abracadabra?”

I excused all that figuring it was the pain killers and she wasn’t responsible for her behavior.

But late last week as I folded a pair of her slacks, she said, “Not like that. Do it right. And refold those T-shirts.”

“You know,” I said. “You could say ‘please.’ “

Her response that time: “Why?”

CLICK ANY IMAGE TO INCREASE THE MAGIC.

During Physical Therapy Tuesday, the therapist asked The Dowager Duchess where I was.

My mother told her, “I gave him the day off.”

I’ll start sharing the photos from my exceptional “day off” later this week.

MY FEET IN THE ATLANTIC.
BELLY-UP CRAB WITH ONE BLUE CLAW.
A QUIET WEEKDAY ON THE BEACH AT CONEY ISLAND.
STILL ROOM FOR ANOTHER KITE OR TWO. 
NOT THE DOWAGER DUCHESS. 
MAYBE IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS.
MY NEW WORKOUT BUDDIES?
ON SECOND THOUGHT.
THE GUY AT LEFT COULD MAKE HIS TATTOOS DANCE.
(AND I COULD HAVE LIVED WITHOUT SEEING IT.)
Hocus Pocus… This was me before my day off.

Author: Moving with Mitchell

From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..

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