Hot Fudge Sundae

Oh, its been a hundred years since Ive had a hot fudge sundae, said my 97-year-old mother, as she dug into the ice cream I had brought her from McDonalds the other night. Actually, it had been about a month since the last time I brought her a hot fudge sundae, but her forgetfulness makes it that much more fun to surprise her with a treat. Shell never get bored with the same old favorite desert. Once, when I brought her a sundae, a few months ago, I reminded her of the time when she introduced me, at about age 12, to the novelty of buying an ice cream sundae and taking it with us as we walked home together. She explained that that was why it was called a walking sundae. I had never heard that expression and have never heard it since, so I wonder if its something she just made up as we went along. Im discovering that she is good at making things up as she goes along and Im just now recognizing a lot of personality traits that werent apparent to me until recently. Its like looking at a mirror and seeing yourself as others see you. As I, as an adult, observe my mother, like the truthful mirror, I reflect and discover traits I was too close or too young to understand. Now, as we share the take-out sundaes, I am glad for the respite from her complaints. She is always, without fail, delighted with my gifts of food, whether it is a full meal Ive prepared myself or a plastic cup of ice cream from a fast food restaurant. For these few minutes, she enjoys the role reversal. An so do I.


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