Two years ago, my mother moved in with me, and since then our home has taken on her gentle but perfectly ordered pace.
My names Edward, and my mum is now 89. She moved in with me two years back, and our home has quietly fallen into her steady routine since then. Every morning, just before half past seven, I hear her stir from bed, gently chatting to our ancient, 23-year-old cat, feeding him with as much care as if he were a tiny child.
Mum prepares her own breakfast, then steps out onto the conservatory with a cup of tea, sitting quietly to wake up at her own pace. When shes properly awake, she grabs the mop and, as she likes to say, just to keep from creaking, she cleans the floors through the entire house and its not small, nearly 240 square metres. If shes in good spirits, shell whip something up in the kitchen, tidy up a bit more, and even do a few simple exercises.
After lunch is her time to herself: a bit of skincare, some hair fussing, little routines that change every day. Sometimes shes out with her enormous wardrobe, sorting clothes which to pass on to me, which to donate to charity, and which things she might sell online. I often tease her:
Mum, you couldve invested all this and be living in some manor by now.
She just laughs:
Oh, I love my things. And honestly, one day it’ll all be yours your sister never did have any taste.
For enjoyment, we go walking along the lake five times a week or so, about five kilometres each time. Mum meets her friends once a month. She adores books and, bit by bit, shes working her way through my whole library. Every day, without fail, she rings her elder sister, whos 91 now; her sister comes to visit us twice a year.
Aside from the cat, her other great love is the tablet I gave her for Christmas. She reads about her favourite authors and composers, listens to quirky news channels, watches ballets and operas and concerts. Sometimes, late at night, I catch sounds drifting from her room:
I should be off to bed but someones gone and put Pavarotti on YouTube!
Mum and her sister really do seem to have won the genetics lottery. Theres a photo I cherish, taken two years ago, right before she caught a flight, all dressed up perfectly for the journey.
I look awful in that photo, she said.
And, as always, I replied:
Mum, most people your age dont even get the chance to live like you, much less look like you do.
Living with my mum for this long, Ive realised I want to be just like her This woman inspires me to keep moving forward and savour every single day.
