The Memory of Ice

I'm still sifting through piles and piles of memories.
For now at least, my memory still works fairly well. Not so much for my mom, apparently.


I suppose it's helpful when your ancestry has ostriches. She has elevated the whole head-in-the-sand thing to an art form. It's not recent, she's always been that way. Anything awkward and she wants to know how the weather is or wants to share the latest gossip.

It has its humorous moments, that head-burying thing. And sometimes it's just frustrating. Being deliberately obtuse is her default setting.

Photo of Mom (not recent)

I was having my evening chat with Mom via messenger last night. She was telling me about how difficult it is to pick up a bag of ice from the grocery store and get it home without it melting, as it's really hot where she lives and a bag of ice is a bit heavy for her to bring into the house.

I said, "Well, now that no one's going to yell at you for using the ice maker, why don't you just use that?"

She was confused. "I don't have an ice maker!"

"Yes, you do. Dad wouldn't let you use it because he thought it was making the refrigerator work too hard,  Mom. Don't you remember how mad he was when your brand new refrigerator didn't work right and blamed you for it?"

Of course she 'doesn't remember that'. She doesn't remember a lot of things when it's convenient for her.

That post is from 2019. It gives some insight into my dad's character. It includes the story of how I accidentally recorded a monologue from my dad.

He was wishing my mom would die because she had the NERVE to ask me to stop for a cup of coffee. Control freak asshole.

Scroll down for the refrigerator story, but really, the whole thing is worth reading.
He was really a mean person.

So anyway, she completely forgot that she has an ice maker in her refrigerator.

She expressed concern that she wouldn't know how to turn it on anyway. I told her that she could get the person who helps her clean house try turning it on.

"But Mom, discard the first couple tubs of ice, the water line needs to flush out, it's been sitting there a long time unused."

I hope that when she gets it running she will remember to dump the first ice.

I talked to her this evening and she hasn't been able to figure out how to turn the ice maker on. Hoping my aunt and uncle can help her when they visit later this month if she doesn't get it turned on before then.

I can't imagine losing a partner after 64 years. I know she's sad and that she misses him. And I'm sure she feels guilt when she has any thoughts of relief from the abusive person. She was raised to feel guilt over pretty much everything in the universe.

She's 85 years old. She spent her whole life with this person. And she'll never use the word abusive.

I'm not sure that matters at this point, as long as the poor woman gets some ice.