Ammie
11-12-2004, 01:26 PM
>After 21 years of marriage, I discovered a new way of keeping alive
>the spark of love. A little while ago I started to go out with
>another woman It was really my wife's idea.
>
>"I know that you love her," she said one day, taking me by surprise.
>
>"But I love YOU," I protested.
>
>"I know, but you also love her."
>
>The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who
>has been a widow for 19 ears The demands of my work and my three
>children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That
>night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.
>
>"What's wrong, are you okay ?" she asked. My mother is the type of
>woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation
>is a sign of bad news.
>
>"I thought that it would be nice to spend some time with you," I
>responded.
>
>"Just the two of us ?" She thought about it for a moment, then said,
>"I would like that very much."
>
>That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit
>nervous.
>
>When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be
>nervous about our "date." She waited in the door with her coat on.
>She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn
>to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face
>that was as radiant as an angel's.
>
>"I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they
>were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait
>to hear about our meeting."
>
>We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice
>and cozy.
>
>My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat
>down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print.
>Half way through the entrees, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting
>there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.
>
>"It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,"
>she said.
>
>"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I
>responded.
>
>During the dinner we had an agreeable conversation - nothing
>extraordinary - but catching up on recent events of each other's
>life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at
>her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if
>you let me invite you."
>
>I agreed.
>
>"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home.
>
>"Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.
>
>A few days later my mother died of a massive heart attack. It
>happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for
>her.
>
>Some time later I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant
>receipt from the same place my mother and I had dined. An attached
>note read: "Son, I paid this bill in advance. I was almost sure that
>I couldn't be there but, nevertheless, I paid for two plates - one
>for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that
>night meant for me. I love you."
>
>At that moment I understood the importance of saying, in time: "I
>LOVE YOU" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.
>Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the
>time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till "some
>other time."
>
>Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after
>you've had a baby ... somebody doesn't know that once you're a
>mother, "Normal," is history.
>
>Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct . somebody
>never took a three-year-old shopping.
>
>Somebody said being a mother is boring .. somebody never rode in a
>car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit.
>
>Somebody said if you're a "good" mother, your child will "turn out
>good." Somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a
>guarantee.
>
>Somebody said "good" mothers never raise their voices . somebody
>never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a
>golf ball through the neighbor's kitchen window.
>
>Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother . Somebody
>never helped a fourth grader with his math.
>
>Somebody said you can't love the fifth child as much as you love the
>first. Somebody doesn't have five children.
>
>Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child-rearing
>questions in the books ... somebody never had a child stuff beans up
>his nose or in his ears.
>
>Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labor and
>delivery .. Somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the
>first day of kindergarten. or on a plane headed for military "boot
>camp."
>
>Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one
>hand tied behind her back ... somebody never organized seven
>giggling Brownies to sell cookies.
>
>Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets
>married .. Somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or
>daughter-in-law to a mother's heartstrings.
>
>Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home
>... Somebody never had grandchildren.
>
>Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don't need to
>tell her .... somebody isn't a mother.
>the spark of love. A little while ago I started to go out with
>another woman It was really my wife's idea.
>
>"I know that you love her," she said one day, taking me by surprise.
>
>"But I love YOU," I protested.
>
>"I know, but you also love her."
>
>The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who
>has been a widow for 19 ears The demands of my work and my three
>children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That
>night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.
>
>"What's wrong, are you okay ?" she asked. My mother is the type of
>woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation
>is a sign of bad news.
>
>"I thought that it would be nice to spend some time with you," I
>responded.
>
>"Just the two of us ?" She thought about it for a moment, then said,
>"I would like that very much."
>
>That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit
>nervous.
>
>When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be
>nervous about our "date." She waited in the door with her coat on.
>She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn
>to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face
>that was as radiant as an angel's.
>
>"I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they
>were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait
>to hear about our meeting."
>
>We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice
>and cozy.
>
>My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat
>down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print.
>Half way through the entrees, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting
>there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.
>
>"It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,"
>she said.
>
>"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I
>responded.
>
>During the dinner we had an agreeable conversation - nothing
>extraordinary - but catching up on recent events of each other's
>life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at
>her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if
>you let me invite you."
>
>I agreed.
>
>"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home.
>
>"Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.
>
>A few days later my mother died of a massive heart attack. It
>happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for
>her.
>
>Some time later I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant
>receipt from the same place my mother and I had dined. An attached
>note read: "Son, I paid this bill in advance. I was almost sure that
>I couldn't be there but, nevertheless, I paid for two plates - one
>for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that
>night meant for me. I love you."
>
>At that moment I understood the importance of saying, in time: "I
>LOVE YOU" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.
>Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the
>time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till "some
>other time."
>
>Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after
>you've had a baby ... somebody doesn't know that once you're a
>mother, "Normal," is history.
>
>Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct . somebody
>never took a three-year-old shopping.
>
>Somebody said being a mother is boring .. somebody never rode in a
>car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit.
>
>Somebody said if you're a "good" mother, your child will "turn out
>good." Somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a
>guarantee.
>
>Somebody said "good" mothers never raise their voices . somebody
>never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a
>golf ball through the neighbor's kitchen window.
>
>Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother . Somebody
>never helped a fourth grader with his math.
>
>Somebody said you can't love the fifth child as much as you love the
>first. Somebody doesn't have five children.
>
>Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child-rearing
>questions in the books ... somebody never had a child stuff beans up
>his nose or in his ears.
>
>Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labor and
>delivery .. Somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the
>first day of kindergarten. or on a plane headed for military "boot
>camp."
>
>Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one
>hand tied behind her back ... somebody never organized seven
>giggling Brownies to sell cookies.
>
>Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets
>married .. Somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or
>daughter-in-law to a mother's heartstrings.
>
>Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home
>... Somebody never had grandchildren.
>
>Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don't need to
>tell her .... somebody isn't a mother.