Give and Take

“Where is my towel?”

Here it is.

“Why aren’t my shoes polished?”

In a minute.

“Ugh Mom, idlis again!”

Oh, OK, will pasta do?

“Wake me up at four, Mom, I have to study.”

OK beta.

“Don’t wake me until ten, Mom; I’ll be up late studying.”

OK beta.

“Don’t wait up for me darling, I’ll take the spare key.

She was awake, nevertheless, when he walked in.

Don’t wait for me for dinner, I have a working dinner.

She waited anyway.

Can you sign my report card? Dad will kill me.

All right, but do better next time.

Are you still watching that silly serial? There’s a match on---

The TV remote did not have her fingerprints on it.

Bahu, my medicine is over.

Here is a new bottle, Ma.

Mid-afternoon: There goes the doorbell.

 It’s the plumber. There goes her nap.

They sailed in and sailed out of her day. Sometimes they whirled, sometimes they slunk. They never stayed long enough in her day, though they all lived in the same house.

Last thing at night, she went around the house, locking up, switching off, and wiping down. By then everyone was fast asleep.

One night she tripped over something, and fell headlong down the stairs.

Lost a lot of blood. They rushed her to hospital. Trundled along on a stretcher.

Voices.

Doctor: What blood group?

Hers? Er—AB.

And yours?

Ours—er, I am O—the kids are A and B, I think—I am not sure, who is which----

Doctor: Oh, good. Then you are all donors for her. She is a universal recipient.

Huh?

She came out of her stupor long enough to laugh.