Afterthoughts

I had a hard night. My left hip and lower back are not so great. Standing at the stove and frying/cooking was not good for them, and they complained loudly all night. Consequently, I spent a pretty rough night.
But I was thinking about my mom at the party last night. On one hand, she didn't eat any of the food, except the caregiver's beautiful matzo ball soup, which was as close to perfect as it could get. She even told me to "get the recipe," only to be told by my friend from the choir who attended that she didn't need it because Susie could cook it for her any time! But she was extremely animated and happy, jabbering away about her life, completely lucidly! Everything she said was true, as far as I know, and the tales included no imaginary visitors or events. I haven't heard her speak that way in years, and it was like having my mother back for the duration of the party.
I couldn't push it too far though. When I asked why she hadn't eaten anything I prepared--not the latkes (which turned out good) or the challah (frozen dough, but warm and beautiful when it came out of the oven)--she said that she knew when she looked at the plate that the helping was way too big, so she thought she shouldn't even get started on it because it was impossible to finish! I thought that was so absurd, I laughed. In some kind of way, it had a logic of its own, though perhaps not the kind I accept as logical.
Afterwards, I gave my dad his terrarium of carnivorous plants and gave my mom her outfits from Steinmart. I am not sure she liked them. I will have her try them on, and if they don't fit or if she tells me she won't wear them, I will exchange them.