Categorized | Penny Nichols

It Can Always Get Worse!

Posted on 27 March 2014

 by Penny Nichols


On my way home this morning I stopped at the local donut shop to get my 4th  cup of coffee so far today. They have good coffee no matter what time of the day it is. I’ve gone in there at night and the coffee is as fresh as it is in the morning. This is not a specialty coffee shop, just straight regular coffee.  I go in there often. A mother and her daughter run the place, neither young. The daughter herself is a grandmother. This morning they were fighting. The mother put on her coat and said she was leaving. I’m going to do what I always do when I get mad, she said, “I’m going shopping”. The daughter, who was visibly upset, would not even look at her mom. With her coat on, hands in her pockets, she turned to her daughter and said in a kind voice, “is there anything you would like me to get you while I’m out”?  I looked at the daughter and told her to give her mom a hug. She smiled at me and said she drives me crazy.

Penny I couldn’t help but to once again think of my own mother, and with a   broken heart that I know that will never heal, I wished I could hug her and fight with her again. This is how I always feel when I see mothers arguing with their daughters, or daughters getting annoyed with their mom’s. I feel like screaming, you are so lucky to have each other. This is something I always knew, even when I was a child, but then again I rarely fought with my mother. Of course she always annoyed me.


    My mom loved to fight. It seemed to make her stronger and she thrived on it. It was fun to watch, very amusing how she could verbally and in her younger years sometimes physically crutch her opponent. Of course if you were the one she was fighting with it was no fun at all. My mom had five children. If you knew her you would wonder why. She definitely was not your typical mother. The one word that best describes her was crazy. She thrived on chaos. You always knew when she entered a room she was loud. Had a mouth like a truck driver when she got angry. You either loved her or hated her. I guess I loved her. Whenever I said, “I love you mom”, she always replied, “I love you more”.  And I never doubted it. As crazy and nasty as she was, she was also filled with love. You could see it in her eyes when she looked at her children or her husband and even her own mother. She adored her mother. Of course she argued with her too. My mother always said to me, “I hope you don’t miss me as much as I miss my mother”.  How could I not?