Monday morning, I was having a long, convoluted dream (as many of mine are). One of those cast of thousands dreams. Just before I woke up, I dreamed I was sitting in a room and my mother walked in. She was laughing, and in the other room, I could hear Debby telling our father a story, and he was laughing, too.
“This was a good idea,” Mother said, “us coming here. She always makes us laugh. We’re so proud of her.”
I was smiling when I woke up, and I could distinctly remember a day when I was either at Mother’s, or she was at The Compound, probably in the year or so before she died, and she was talking to Debby on the phone, sometimes hollering with laughter. “I’m SO glad you called,” she told Debby. “You always make me laugh, no matter how I’m feeling.”
Debby has that effect on me, too, and the dream and that memory reminded me of one of my favorite photos. It was 1990 and we were all in Salt Lake City. David had taken his brothers-in-law skiing, and Mother, Debby, and I had lunch out, went to a movie, did some shopping in the mall. On a whim, one of us said, “Let’s get our picture taken with Santa!”
As soon as we received the photo, Debby said, “Look at the expression on Mother’s face. She looks like Santa’s goosing her!”
“Gave me a chill all over my body,” Mother said and cackled.