I spent most of today with my mom who lives next door in her brick row house in Cramer Hill. She’s eighty-nine and she laughs at the very idea that she is that age. It just tickles her when she remembers that she is almost ninety.
I made her brunch–waffles and two little sausages. She would only eat one of the sausages and made me eat the other. Oh well, it was a tough task, but I handled it with ease.
Then, I made her coffee and we leafed through magazines. I read her the question from an article in the magazine that I had, “What is the most beautiful place that you’ve ever seen?”
She stopped to think. My brother sat down with us and offered, “Niagara Falls?”
“No, my house!” she said proudly.
I pressed her, “Okay, but how about the second most beautiful place that you’ve ever seen?”
“409 Vine,” she said. That was her childhood home in North Camden.
“Mom, you’re a homebody,” I laughed.
She has traveled a bit–Niagara Falls, the Jersey Shore, New York City, Florida, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Las Vegas, Acapulco. Apparently, nothing in those places could compare with home for my mom.
Now I like my house. However, I have to say that it can’t compare with the Red Rock Mountains in Nevada, the Eiffel Tower in Paris or the Alps in Switzerland. Or–a lot of other places much humbler than those!
What was the most beautiful place that you have even seen?
Writing from Cramer Hill
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