My mother is 82 years old. On our way to see the French Impressionists I had a chance to take in the regal, humble, warm and gracious woman she has become. She befriended fellow linemates as she stretched. She ignored the loud talkers whose voices carried singularly. She sat and took in The Luncheon dressed in black cashmere that echoed the painter’s strokes. Her gray and silver hair was done in pinned up plaits to be taken out and celebrated for its now-embraced texture. She delighted in the words of Sage, a young person who noted the ball and doll in the painting as we speculated. Our companions at the chair noted that they had so enjoyed our company. We had created a moment. A memory. We laughed as I shared my latest correction from my 23 year old daughter who noted with some frustration my knack for tiresome questions like have you paid rent. We laughed over my comment that I expected her to take my daughter’s side. The laughter soothed my heart. “How would you feel if I always asked you questions in your business like have you paid your mortgage?” she asked. How would I feel indeed?

I don’t know when an exhibit like this will return to DC. From Monet’s Impression, Sunrise to the portrait of an artist’s daughter, we were impressed by the beauty, the images of war. My mother enjoyed the exhibit but it came at some cost for her. Standing in line for 40 minutes and walking through the exhibit took a toll on her body that was exacerbated by the rain that greeted us as we left. Walking was difficult and painful. We pivoted from plans to take tea nearby and headed to her place where she shared her recipe inspired by Anthony Bourdain and another chef for garlic mashed potatoes and Safeway fried chicken.

I am grateful for the training I received as a coach that has allowed me to be open-hearted enough to love my mother as she is and to listen to her without trying to fix something or feel like I’m in trouble. I can be with her and myself (and my daughter) as we are. I am grateful for this experience and the opportunity to make more memories.