When I think of all the things my parents have given me over the years, I think of how , first, they gave me life. They have also given me their time, their love, and pickles. Yes, pickles. At 55, almost 56 years old, I am very lucky to still have my parents with me. They are in their eighties now and with declining health as many elderly people are . My husband has been taking care of them while I work ( I’m a paraprofessional at an elementary school ), and now that school is out for the summer I have been going to their house every day along with him .
We get there around 7am , so that we are there before my sister, who lives with them, leaves for work . I make breakfast for myself and my husband , my parents already having had theirs . We hang out, watch tv and enjoy each other’s company . When lunch time rolls around there is a decision to be made. Do we eat something that’s in the house or do we get take out ? Occasionally we get either Wendy’s or McDonald’s . That’s where the pickles come in. Once my husband comes back from picking up the food , we sit at the table and begin to eat. Inevitably , my mother will offer me her pickles, followed a couple of minutes later by my father offering his. Of course I take them and say thank you.
I am very blessed to have this time with my parents. If, someday , after they are no longer with us, , someone should ask me what I remember most about my parents , I already know the answer. I will tell them I remember their love, and what I learned from them while they were here . And yes, I will also tell them I remember that my parents gave me pickles .