In these crazy times I think about going over to my mother’s for lunch, and how she would fume about 45 and what a mess he was making of everything, how he couldn’t stop being an asshole for five damn minutes. That’s my wording, not hers, but the sentiment was there.
I remember sitting at The Cheesecake Factory with her, after negotiating her wheelchair to the table and getting everything in place. And in the middle of lunch, she said very matter-of-factly, “What we need to do is get some ricin.”
And we laughed about how exactly an elderly infirm woman in a wheelchair was going to take advantage of that ricin she had somehow acquired. Then I looked up and announced to the invisible microphones surrounding us that I DID NOT CONDONE ANY VIOLENCE AGAINST THE PRESIDENT.
I miss her so damn much. It’s been eight months, and it feels like I miss her more now than when she died. I guess maybe that’s normal. I don’t know. But something that was just kind of theoretical feels all too real now. It hurts.
When he finally does leave the White House, under whatever circumstances, I will make a toast to her. She deserves it.