Is one ever too old to love?

Margaret sighed inwardly as her son begged her once more to reconsider, “please mom do yourself a favour…. and us, Frances and me.”

“Just explain it all to me just once more dear, because I’m not, as you young ones say, on the same page.
You’re asking me to give up my comfortable small cottage in the village of ‘retirees’ and move into a single room attached to the frail care centre where I will be molly coddled and treated like a half wit so that you two feel free to travel the world on your yacht and basically not worry about me.”

“Absolutely NOT mother dear. We want you to be happy and looked after. I suppose,” he added a little sheepishly, “ we would feel ,” he hesitated searching for the right word,

“ What you mean is that I’ll be off your consciences and out of your hair!
But what about me?” she demanded crisply. “I’m not ready to lose my independence and your suggestion that I stop driving my car, I’m only 89 dear Tom and perfectly capable.”

Tom recognised a stalemate when He saw one and looked at his watch and stood up to go. “I’m meeting Frances in 10 minutes. Goodbye mom, look after yourself. Please try to be more reasonable when we next come to see you.”

As fate would have it Margaret or Maggie as the other ‘oldies’ at the village called her, happened to trip over the hosepipe in her small colourful garden and sprained her ankle rather seriously.
The matron encouraged her to take advantage of the care facility in the attractive room set aside for short term patients. “Then you can rest completely and get better in two weeks, AND you can cheer us all up in the rather depressing frail care centre.” And so it was decided.

Tom and Frances were delighted to hear how easily she had transferred to the frail care centre. They were off on their yacht to Honolulu the following week and visited her at once.

“See mother, it’s really quite nice in here,” gushed Frances obviously relieved to have her mother in law’s fate settled.
“Now this is what we like to see,” said Tom in support.

Maggie buttoned her lip and simply smiled.
She knew that in a few days they would be gone and she would as matron had promised her, be back in her cosy beautiful home, quite independent once more.

3 weeks passed and Margaret received a long distance call from a tiny port in a far flung part of the world.

“What is this we hear Mother? Why aren’t you being looked after by all those lovely carers any more? Frances and I are really quite annoyed that you have gone deliberately against our wishes,” he stopped suddenly as a loud knocking came down the line as clear as though it were in the same room, “what’s that Mom? Who’s there?”

“Oh forgive me dear Tom but you’ve caught me at a bad time, sorry I must go,” and with a hiss and a loud click she was gone. Tom and Frances looked at each other in frustration. “Just when we had her pinned down,” their expressions said.

Meanwhile Maggie was primping her hair and checked that her lipstick was fresh, “just coming,” she chirruped, “the kettle is on for our regular cuppa." She opened the door “ how lovely to see you Alfred. Please do come inside, the scones will be out of the oven in 3 minutes,” she said with a radiant smile making her glow with happiness.

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