“How’s My Little Buddy?”

On Saturday, I visited with Mom and as usual, we had coffee and watched a couple of episodes of Mike & Molly.

I went to the refrigerator to retrieve the milk, and perhaps it was because I looked at some of the photos of days gone by, but my mind played a wonderful trick on me.

It flashed an early memory of my life, that I often think of about from probably 1969 or 1970.

Mom was working in the kitchen. I had been in another area of the house playing with John and Corinne, and I strolled into the kitchen and stood there, with my back to the refrigerator.

Mom turned and smiled.

I can still see it clearly.

“How’s my little buddy?” She asked.

Back to 2025, we sat at the kitchen table.

“What city is that?” Mom asked as the camera panned out on Mike & Molly.

“Chicago,” I said.

“I don’t think I was ever there,” Mom said.

“Oh, you were,” I said. “Me and you got drunk at the airport bar there.”

“What?” Mom laughed.

“We were flying out to California and our flight got delayed. We stayed in the bar, drinking and when we got to California, Dad picked us up at the airport and he was mad.”

Mom was thinking back through it all.

“I remember him being mad,” she said. “We were in Chicago?”

“Yeah, and we had a couple more on the plane too.”

“That was a long time ago,” Mom said.

Yes, and it was.

It was an even longer time back to that little kid running into the kitchen to watch his Mom work.

I wish I could remember more about that day, but I smiled about it, all the way home.

I felt secure in Mom’s love, and that never wavered.

Man, we had laughed hard in that Chicago bar back in 1983.

As I walked to the door to return home, Mom said what she always says.

“Be careful.”

Still her little buddy.

Still so secure in her love.