We’ve Had This Conversation Before

She loved to gamble, especially the slots, so every Mothers’ Day (or is that Mother’s Day?) we bundle her and her portable oxygen generator into her old wood-paneled station wagon, the kind with the fold down back seats to make a trunk, although we don’t put her back there, that would be rude, she rides up front in the passenger side since the seats are all benches, and we head up to the hills where the local tribal casino, and while Mom is situated in front of the newest slot, this one is a retro dedicated to David Hasselhoff on this particular occasion, happily feeding quarters into the machine, or inserting the casino card, in this case, the rest of us decided to take a walk, the day being nice enough, when my little brother, three inches taller than I along with a 75 lb. gut to go along with his 42 years although he will permanently be my ‘little’ brother, decides it’s time to have that talk, the one about packing Mom up and transferring her to an assisted living home, which she’s adamantly opposed to, which I point out again, but he’s getting to be as stubborn about the issue as she is, so I agree, I’ll talk to Mom about it, but we both know she’s going to stay in that house until they cart out her corpse when she’s done with her living.

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