When I was about 14 my Mom took me out to see a Disney film at a small theatre in Windsor. She remembered watching Disney films on the big screen when she was younger and she wanted me to see them in that format, too. My older sisters were grown and out of the house, but she thought that I might be interested in going to see Fantasia with her because I liked music. 

But I was also a teenager, which is a tricky time for a mother and daughter. I thought it was not going to be "cool" to go, so it took some convincing to agree. I finally decided to go with her, probably rolling my eyes all the way. However, when I actually got into the theatre and the movie started to play, I found that I actually really liked it. It wasn't just a cartoon movie, it was arty and kind of different. My Mom was happy that I was enjoying it, and she was enjoying it, too. She wasn't really a "movie" person, so this was a rare occasion for her. 

Unfortunately, it was also cold and flu season and as I sat in the darkened theatre I started to feel really terrible. Whatever bug I had picked up earlier decided to make itself known to me as the film played. I sat sweating and feeling nauseous but determined to finish the movie. My Mom looked at me, looked at the screen, and had to kiss goodbye our special Disney movie together so we could go home and she could take care of me. 

And that's the story of a Mom's life. Pushing you to try something you don't want to do, seeing a spark in you you didn't know you had, then having to deprive yourself of something you want to do in order to help that same kid in a different way. (And putting up with eye rolling and sarcasm the whole time.) 

Years later I bought Mom a copy of Fantasia when it came out on video, but she was right. It just wasn't the same on the small screen. I wish we could have finished it at the theatre together.

My Mom always loved to find the funny in any situation. In fact, I think she liked when things went wrong because she got a much better story that way. 

In 2010 I brought my Mom on her first overseas trip to the UK. She had always wanted to go to Scotland since her Aunt went there in the 50s and came back with stories about tracing our roots. Our ultimate destination was Berwick, so I had built in some time from our landing in Glasgow to get from the airport to the train station with a couple of hours to look around. Unfortunately, the Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajökull had another outburst and caused our flight to leave an hour later, and a course change ate up the other hour. We had juuuuust enough time to find our bus, get to the train station, print out our tickets and hop on. 

We were huffing and puffing and excited that we made it just in time (with Mom able to have a cigarette before boarding, of course). We figured out where we were sitting and then settled in for our early morning train ride. Mom went to use the washroom, a new-fangled type we had not encountered in Canada, with a rounded door that opened and shut like something from Star Trek. When my Mom came back she was laughing and beet red. She told me that she had gone in and begun the process without turning on the light. She hit a button expecting to turn it on, when the door "sssshhhhh"-ed open to the corridor where God and everyone could see her in flagrante delicto. 

Thankfully there was no one around early in the morning, so she was able to scramble herself back into respectability without anyone being the wiser, but it jump-started her heart, made her laugh, and gave her a good story to start off our trip.