Stool Softener Revisited

“Are you gone yet?” Mom asked as I came through the living room on my way to the garage to get a load of clothes out of the dryer. I pulled up short, turned, and walked back into the living room.

“What do you mean, ‘am I gone?’ I’m here so how could I be gone.”

“Maybe you were gone and you came back,” she offered.

“No, I’ve been here all morning. Why would you think I wasn’t here?”

“Because you said you were going to the store and I didn’t know if you left and came back or not.”

“Oh, okay, I understand,” I conceded. “No, I haven’t left yet. Why? Did you need something when I go?”

“Yes, but I don’t remember what. I’ll think of it before you leave,” she said, picking up the Saturday Evening Post magazine that had come in last week’s mail.

Feeling dismissed, I turned and headed back out to get the clothes out of the dryer. I stepped across the threshold into the garage but, as the door started to close behind me, I heard Mom exclaim loudly, “Stool pills!” I grabbed the door before it shut and poked my head through the doorway.

“What?” I shouted.

“Stool pills,” she called back. “I just remembered what I forgot. Stool pills, so when I go my stools are…”

“I know, I know,” I yelled, cutting her off in mid-sentence. “I’ll get them for you. I don’t need a description.”

“Okay, but make sure they’re the right ones,” she continued. “The ones in the bottle, not the box.”

“I know, Mom. I buy them for you all the time.”

“Well, I just want to make sure you get the right ones,” she shouted. “You know, so it’s soft, not so I get the runs.”

“Got it!” I exclaimed, shutting the door firmly and leaning against it. It wasn’t good enough though, because I could still hear her through the closed door.

“I’m too old for the other kind. I can’t move that fast,” she hollered. “I just need the ones that make it easier, not quicker, if you know what I mean.”

old lady running 2



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