my mother said "what do bee's eyes taste like?"
that was the conversation this morning.
I was telling her about one of my dreams this morning.
I was a bee keeper, and I was making cakes to sell with the honey.
People wanted to buy the honey, and I was explaining that if I sold them the honey I wouldn't be able to make the cakes. J woke me up at that point.
so I get a cup of decaf and talk to mom on the phone.
I told her my dream.
and my mother said "what do bee's eyes taste like?"
I explained the dream again, and she said "oh"
and we went on talking.
my mother and I have had such conversation all my life.
this is not because of her being sick and dying.
this is just the way she always had been.
one conversation I remember very well went like this.
"Shannon? what does the sky taste like?"
"summer and darkness, mom"
"You Know," and nods her head.
This is the woman I grew up with until I was convinced that she was going to kill me and I fled.
those conversations were the good times.
the bad time were something out of an unmade horror film.
scars inside and out, as she has.
she is not the good kind of crazy.
this should be interesting.