After I got the four kids to their bus stop nearby I dragged myself home to survey the damage done to our house.  I took off my coat, hat, mittens, scarf, and boots.  Then I poured myself a cup of ink called coffee in the hateful coffee pot.  It was around nine a.m..  I called my mother who lived in isolation up north.

I have never been a morning person.  The coffee helped a little. Our youngest son was a night stalker, and I had not slept through a night for several years.

My mother was a morning person.  I listened to her talk about the 24 hours since my last call.  I heard her tell me about being up at three to shovel snow.  She did this to protect her lawn sprinkler heads from the snow plow service she had engaged.  I yawned and told her to call the snow plow people and cancel the service.  It was a simple suggestion.  I told her that if she shoveled the snow at three a.m. to avoid the plow truck coming,she could sleep in to a more decent time in the morning and shovel her own snow.

She still was out of the house and in deep snow on the driveway to dig the newspaper out of a drift. She did not read the newspaper.  She had a ritual of finding the crossword puzzle and used sharp scissors to cut  it out of the newspaper every day.  She drank her coffee and brought out reference paperbacks for crossword puzzles.  These were so well used that they had fallen into segments held together by rubber bands.

The president made my mother furious, and at almost eighty she did not mince words.  She kept it up.  I told her I had a clicking sound on the phone, as if it were tapped.  We ended our phone call, and I began to dig through the chaos in the house.

I did laundry all day, and loads of dishes.  I heard our phone ring downstairs as I gathered miscellaneous items from each bedroom and bath.  It was before cell phones.  I damned near killed myself going down the stairs.  Did a child of ours throw up?  Did one or more forget lunch money?

No.  It was my mother.  She was stuck on a seven letter word.  The clue was ambiguous and I was still looking like I just rolled out of bed at eleven a.m..  My brain tried to work.  She gave me a couple letters that should have helped me to help her. She hated guessing, because she hated erasing.  O.K. I told myself.  I grabbed note paper and a pencil and tried several words.  None fit into the spaces that were blank.

Dammit, I muttered.  Oh, I should not bother you!  my mother said.  No mom, I just forgot that I had let the dog out and he looks like a snowman.  I let the dog in and eventually the snow melted off him in puddles wherever he walked.  I told her the word.  “SERIOUS.”

I could hear the pencil scratching on the newspaper.  “That’s it!” she said, and she hung up.  By that time it was nearing afternoon. I had not showered nor dressed.  The house was trashed.  I did what I could, but by two p.m. I needed to throw myself onto the bed and sleep until it was time for me to pick the kids up from the bus stop.

Years have passed since I have talked to my mother every morning.  If there is a heaven she’s doing crosswords. She has a lot of help up there. But, at times, I glance at the newspaper.  I wish she could call me for help on another word.