The cough with this cold was particularly rough - one of those that scratches all the way down. Triggered the asthma too, enough that the doc ended up giving me a nebulizer treatment and putting me on a short course of (shudder) prednisone. Which made me remember how Mom could always hear in my voice when I was on the stuff. Once I'd been off it for at least a week, but sure enough, when I called, Mom asked if I'd had to take it.
This afternoon I was putting some things away in the kitchen and spotted Mom's big old turkey roaster up on top of the kitchen cabinets. (It's too tall to fit into any of them.) All those years she pulled that thing out for one of the Christmas turkeys, the other being sent off to my uncle for smoking on his grill. When she eventually went to a different pan, I got the old veteran. I haven't used it much, but every time I see it, I think of her. When the Chief & I were there for Christmas the last two years, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with her, prepping dinner, serving it, cleaning up after. When the Chief and I went to leave, Mom said she'd miss her "kitchen buddy". Me too, Mom.