Meet Betsy and Sharon

**Disclaimer- Grandchildren of my mother!  Read this post at your own peril!!**

***Don't say I didn't warn you!!***

Our mother was quite a woman.

She had many skills and talents, from frying 'a crispy on the outside, tender on the inside' chicken that I cannot duplicate, and have given up trying, to recreating a garment after viewing it fairly casually on the wearer, using brown paper grocery bags as pattern pieces.

Mom was an amateur photographer, a budding pilot in the early 40’s, and was a highly successful hobbyist gardener, teaming up with DSis and selling iris rhizomes at the local farmer’s market.

She was also highly independent, and at the assisted living facility where she spent the last few years of her life, and where the women outnumbered the men about 6 to 1, this independence seemed to catch the eye of the menfolk far more readily than those women that set their caps for male attention

It would appear this tendency exists in some no matter their age!

So. One trip back to see the fam, DSis and I stopped by to visit Mom, right before her dinnertime. And it seemed that perhaps she had just awakened from a late afternoon nap. She was coming out of her bathroom, the lights were dim, and she seemed a bit…scattered.

Oh, she was glad to see us. She always was. Her kids were her pride and joy. One of her best things (before assisted living) was when we would go to church with her and Mom got to stand up and introduce ‘her visitors’.

But, thinking we had caught her less than awake, and maybe a bit confused, we thought to leave and said we would come and visit another time, when our mother stopped us and said, ‘well, let me make some introductions..’

And then we saw that we are not alone in the room. Mom had a gentleman caller.

Who had been laying on her bed.

Her unmade bed…fully clothed (thank the good lawd for tender mercies!)…but still! On the unmade bed.

Mom says “Robbie, I would like you to meet my girls, Becky and Jan.”

Now. Robbie was the name of a fellow that our mother kept company with when DSis and I were back in high school. And lest I state the obvious, we have not been in high school for a very long time, and Robbie? No longer with us.

But ‘Robbie’ rises up, extends his hand, shakes our very stunned hands, and says,

“Nice to meet you, Betsy and Sharon!”

I looked over at DSis, who had her very best ‘I can handle whatever you tell me-HR manager face’ (Myself -I am trying to not laugh...or...choke...or pass out.) She makes some small talk with our mother about ‘being obviously busy, just wanted to show off a new haircut, be back tomorrow, blah blah blah…’

And we got the hell out of dodge just as fast as we could.

Walking down the hall to the door of the building, we looked at each other. And I said.

“Well, Sharon?”  And she said...

“Well, Betsy?”

“Well, I don’t think that was Robbie…”

Meet Sharon (Dearest Sister) over here.  And see Betsy and Sharon's (our!) foray into eCommerce at Atomic Sisters.