Pat Bean's blog

Aging My Way

After nearly 25 years, I recently laid my mother’s ashes to rest beneath a pine tree with a scenic view of a river flowing past. My mother loved water, and the peaceful site was along a route we had traveled together.

To commemorate the occasion, my good friend Kim, and I decided to have a margarita on the balcony at Old Faithful Inn in Yellowstone National Park, while watching Old Faithful put on its impressive eruption. It is one of the last joyful moments I remember spending with mom.

Things, however, didn’t go well from the beginning.

For one thing, I got us lost because I had Kim drive to the Old Faithful Lodge instead of the Inn. While I immediately knew we were in the wrong place, renovations at the park, including a new visitor center since I had last visited, meant it took a while before we found the inn – and then after a couple of minutes of confusion before turning a corner, the balcony that I remembered.

Since I had been using my beloved rollator, which allows me to comfortably walk around on level ground, the next problem was getting it up the stairs to the balcony. That was solved by Kim folding the 16-pound device and carrying it up while I held onto the handrail for balance to get up the stairs.

When I was finally seated on a front bench, Kim went off to find us margaritas. The ones I had shared with my mother were served in tiny glasses, and were quite tasty as I recalled. But the ones Kim came back with were in gigantic glasses and tasted like roadkill. Neither of us could do more than take a few sips as we toasted my late mother.

So, now, let’s put the icing on the cake.

After watching Old Faithful do its thing, Kim and I departed down the stairs, me in front holding on to the railing and she in back carrying my rollator. As I neared the main floor of the inn, I missed the last step, something I was just as likely to have done at 34 as I did at 84.

 In fact, it might have been my habit of always being so clumsy that had me quickly tucking and rolling in somersault mode — and ending up with nothing but my pride hurt.

After a minute or two, I was even able to pull my own-self up, to the consternation of those who wanted to help me. All I can say is I get my stubbornness from my mother.

Meanwhile, in my head was her voice saying: “Patsy Lee! You always were a klutz.”

Well, Mom. You can’t say your memorial wasn’t memorable!

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.