On Sunday afternoon, my phone rang. It was Mom. “What time is it right now where you live?”
I looked at my watch. “4:04 pm.”
“What time is it right now where I live?” For a split second, I thought about this. Could there, would there, be any chance that time where she is could be slightly more in the future than where I am? She’s north of me by about three miles. I told her, “It’s 4:04 pm where you are, too.”
She sighed. “Okay. The clocks don’t work. They all say zero.”
I knew what had happened. She had pressed the “clock” button on the microwave instead of “start.” It had reset to 0:00.
“Would you like me to come and reset your clock now?”
“No. It’s fine. Just reset it the next time you’re here.”
“Maybe you could have Gloria (caretaker) reset it tomorrow when she’s there with you.”
“I’ll do that. Gloria can do anything.”
This afternoon, my phone rang. It was Mom. “What time is it right now where you live?”
“It’s 4:54 pm. What time does your clock say?”
“It says 0. I don’t know what time it is.”
“I have a work call in a few minutes and then I’ll come over and reset your clock.”
I arrive to Mom’s apartment about 6:30 pm. I let myself in and loudly announced I was there. She appeared from around the corner and said, “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to reset your clock.”
I reset it, and wrote the directions for how to reset it on a post-it note so that if Mom accidentally reset it to 0:00, Gloria would know how to program it.
I hugged her tightly, told her I loved her, and she told me I could go. I put my coat back on and asked if she was going to attend the 7 pm movie. She nodded and said she’d walk me downstairs. When we got to the lobby, she shooed me off and started talking to her friends, also going to the movie.
I wondered if this was how she felt when I was a teenager and immediately pretended not to know her as soon as she dropped me off anywhere. I smiled, glad that she didn’t need me, glad to see her so social with others in her home.