The Blue Danube WC: 270

The Blue Danube
WC: 270

We were sitting in my mother’s room in Grandview Retirement Home, drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups and enjoying the apple pie I had made earlier.

“I hate Styrofoam cups, Marnie, but I do love the homemade pie. Is that my recipe?”

It wasn’t, but I said it was.

“I’ll try to find you a real cup.”

I got up.

“No, sweetheart, that’s okay. I’m just crabby. I’m a little under the weather,” my mother said and then dozed off again.

My mom had turned ninety the week before and she was starting to slip. My feisty mother was no longer feisty. I wiped a tear while I watched her sleep.

It began to rain.

After a bit, I said, “Mom?”

She woke up.

“I love that sound,” she said.

“Rain?”

“Specifically, raindrops on the roof,” she corrected me. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved the sound of raindrops on the roof. I would go up into the attic, curl up in a quilt, and fall asleep listening to Mother Nature crying.”

Mother dozed off again. I checked my watch. I cleared her tray, put the cups in the trash, and wrapped up the unfinished pie.

I kissed her on the forehead and was turning to leave when she said, “I have always loved Viennese waltzes.”

Now we would be talking about music, I guess. I had a few minutes. I sat back down.

I stroked my mother’s feverish forehead as she hummed the melody from The Blue Danube Waltz…

And then, the woman who had rocked me to sleep as a child while humming that song was silent…

this time forever.