There is only so much we can talk about. It has always been this way. She does not connect with me at the core of my soul; the place where God meets me. She has always refused to recognize that place in her heart that only He can fill. She has never had much of a life and her life is very small. Our conversations are shallow and empty.
So I search for subjects to talk about.
I show her my tattoo; a cross behind my ear, one that I have gotten since I visited last year.
“I have always wanted a tattoo,” she says, longingly, “but my husband would never hear of it.” I sit amazed and surprised by this little bit of information. A tattoo?
It is the least I can to—a daughter-in-law for a lonely old lady. So we begin to plan our day ahead, and her eyes glisten and lighten up. She is excited as rarely is there a break from the norm of grocery shopping, gym and the weekly art class. She had cried when I arrived at her door two days earlier as she had been waiting out of loneliness for my arrival.
We find a tattoo parlor. They are not the sort of places a seventy two year old Granny frequents. But she is happy and never once thinks of changing her mind.
The artist is ecstatic as she is his oldest client. He takes his photo with her for his wall, to be put among the other, not so desirable photos and drawings. He gives her a butterfly on her arm and a treble clef on her ankle. And I just ‘have’ to get another tattoo as well.
We leave two hours later, arms linked, giggling and walking to the car. It has been a good day. We have something in common: a mother and daughter-n-law feeling just a little mischievous, young, and having a lot in common.
A Call To Knit : Our common ground from my last visit.
Linked with Laura at The Wellspring, Joan at Beauty in His Grip, Alabaster Jar,