I Have a New Friend

I am older now than my mother was when I thought she was old. Being old is like being a child again, but with permissions.

"Momma, I have a new friend."

"That's nice, dear," Mother would have said. "What's her name?"

"Lou."

"Lou what?"

"Don't know," I would say with a shrug.

"Where does she live?"

"Over behind King Soopers somewhere."

"What does she do?" Mother would have asked.

"She's retired."

"From what?"

(I remember that mothers ask lots of questions. My mother did. I did.)

"Don't know exactly. Maybe she was like me. Did lots of things."

"You don't know much about her, do you?"

"Guess not. But I like her."

Mother would have laughed. "And what is it you like about your new friend?"

"She likes books."