Driving with Mother

Spring has sprung in Northeast Ohio. The birds are singing, the flowers are in bloom and my mother is like a wide eyed child at Christmas. For some reason Forsythia in bloom turns her on. Since I was a child she has been pointing out Forsythia bushes that have burst open their yellowness. Each Spring she points them out in strangers yards as we drive by on our way to some two hour away mall because Macy's is having a sale in the cosmetic department. I leave her in that department and go look at shoes. If I stay with her in there she will spray me with perfume. But that's another story for another day.
I can be in mid sentence talking about her grandchildren and she will interrupt me,
"Oh look at that Forsythia, it's beautiful. Isn't it?"
"Yep beautiful. And then the principle called......."
"Look there's another one, it's gorgeous."
I always accommodate and look. But Forsythia just doesn't do it for me. I have one in my yard but she never seems to notice or maybe she points it out to my dad when they drive by.


I am almost certain that I could be driving my mother to Macy's during Spring and the end of times decides to show up. We will be driving down the highway and behind us the Earth is crumbling and falling into the deep dark abyss that is hell. While I am trying to 'get right with God' I'm looking at my rear-view mirror and see the four horsemen of the apocalypse breathing down my neck and my dear mother will say,
"Slow down you're missing the Forsythia."

Don't tell my mom about this post, pretty sure she'd be mad at me.