I saw my mother today for the first time in 5 days today. The first thing she said I cannot repeat. The second thing she said is we need to get the black heads off our noses. Next, she asked if I would be here to help dig the trench. I tend to answer in the affirmative always, so I cancelled my Monday night DVD in bed plans, and committed. For the next 30 minutes as I am filling her in on the conversational, uncomplicated details about my life (hair, nails, bread) there was a constant reminder of this trench that was in our future. She said she needed it to fix the Internet and that it was important I help because it was the big Family Night activity.
I began to relay the history of manual labor in our family; laying slate tile at 14, shoveling sand on Christmas at 16, walking uphill both ways in the snow without shoes, etc... Nikka gave me pity. We laughed, we cried, I expressed jealousy of Nikka for being raised on the tail end of the Dial day labor organization. To prove she can hold her own she said "Okay, Mom, tell me the details of this 'trench' so we can get started."
Mom: "It needs to be at least 3...... inches deep."
Four people looked at her in amazement. Nikka said, "Alright, let's go dig our bird bath."