Day 10 - Sikeston, MO - Part Seven

Linda has just let the genie out of the bottle.

Once she told me that I look like her daddy, Claude, others start to concur with her.

I look to my Mom and ask her.

She smiles her now pixie-ish smile and says, "Yes, I didn't really see it before but you look like the Hatley men. Especially Uncle Claude and Uncle Junior."

I look back to Linda. She's looking still looking at me with disbelief.

Are her eyes watering up?

I can't totally tell but she might be on the verge of tearing up on me.

What a sweet, sweet moment. I'm so happy that I'm here.

Linda gets engaged with another part of the conversation and the moment evaporates.

I'll never forget it.

I need to see a picture of Uncle Claude.

Before I know it, Claudette's attention turns back to me.

"John, I accidentally found your blog last night."

I hold my breath.

"I liked it!"

I can exhale.

She tells me that she found it because one of my aunts had posted it on facebook for others to read and then she realized that I was the person writing it. She even read some of it to her husband, Jim.

Jim hears this and gets a big smile on his face. It's clear he's enjoyed what he's heard or read so far.

"I can't believe you remember all of this stuff happening."

Sheepishly, I explain that I'm taking this all in.

I don't know if people realize this but every single moment of this trip is vital for me.

This is it for me. The time for creating memories with my Mom is coming to an abrupt and unexpected end.

Every. Moment. Matters.

I'm glad they liked it. I would have stopped making this public if they didn't.

The conversation turns away from me and shifts to catching up about family that aren't present and family that is no longer with us.

The conversation turns once again to my Grandma, Juanita New.

Now yesterday, we were laughing about her ceramic chicken that she always referred to her "18 inch cock." Today, my mom tells another ribald story about my Grandma.

Later in life, my grandma suffered from dementia. She had to be taken care of my her daughters. One time, one of them was trying to get her into the car and get her seat belt fastened.

For whatever reason, they were struggling to get the seat belt latched.

In a momoent of clarity from the dementia, my grandma cracked this joke.

"Well, just put some hair around that hole and you'll be able to stick it in."

I can't stop laughing.