A Night at Espana

I had a conversation with an old friend the other day. It was actually more of a one-sided conversation. I really wasn't talking. The conversation was about no matter what and where we were 15 years ago, no matter how irresponsible we were or how conceited we acted towards others, we all come around. People grow up. It's a simple thought. The dealer becomes a well-respected family man; the beauty queen is grounded. The most difficult thing for me is watching my parents wither.
I lost my father two years ago. I'm okay with it now. Sometimes I try to convince myself that I'm depressed, but I'm not. Yes, I do miss him, but I then feel a comfortable smile as I remember him in my life.
What is more difficult is seeing my mother grow old. This woman, if you ever met her, was a strong-willed belligerent, demanding person. She was the lioness; no one dare get in her way.
Now, as I physically tower over her, I see a small, tiny woman. She is a woman who has lost so much weight, a woman who has trouble walking, thinking, and comprehending. It's difficult to see my mother this way. She is no way the woman I grew up fearing and loathing. She is not the one who would challenge me on everything I did or thought.
I have now become the parent of a 69-year-old woman.
I apologize dear friend, I felt like I wasn't participating in conversation as much as I would have any other day, but I was listening to the conversation that night. You might have been going in another direction with it, but this is where I ended up.