Woke Peg at 9 PM to see if she wanted any food (I had had popcorn and wine so was happy and full). Heated her some mushroom soup from Stew Leonard's (after pureeing it so no big unchewable chunks of mushrooms). Could not get the kitchen TV off of "NO SIGNAL" so asked if she'd perhaps like to hear a chapter of DK's autobiographical audio book, "Key Changes", while she ate (and complained about small chunks of mushrooms).
I knew we were onto dangerous ground but asked anyway. Dangerous because this is how Peg consistently listens to Denis' music:
"I want to hear your new show! Put it on! Put it on! I can't wait!"
We then put on the CD of DK's demo or latest musical or album, whatever, and Peg sits down, all ears, but within two bars she's up, in search of a Kleenex, a glass of ice water, her glasses, a pillow, a sweater, talking to the dog, going for a pee, and so on. While Den and I quietly (or sometimes not) seethe.
Anyhow, last night, she says "Yes! I'd love to hear it! Put it on!" as normal, so I get my laptop and find the tracks (unmastered as yet but good enough to listen to, certainly by someone who's going to be off looking for her Fixodent any minute) and we sat at the butcher bloc. I pressed PLAY and on came Chapter 1.
And then a miracle occurred. Peg stayed put. Listened. Reacted. Laughed when she was supposed to. Tittered. Tutted. Patted my arm in appreciation. Was completely engaged. Not only that, asked for more. And more. And still more. We sat there for three hours, listening to the entire first section. Not once did her attention falter. Afterwards she said how marvelous it was and how proud she was of me.
If I have ever, ever, and I do mean EVER said anything bad about my mother, I take it all back, it must have been merely a temporary mental aberration. Because I mean, God. What a remarkable woman she is, so wise, so astute, so--well. Perfect.
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