My elderly mother loved going grocery shopping with me, although it tired her out. She wandered happily through the store by my side, clutching the handle of a rolling shopping cart. She tended to smile at, and talk to, just about everyone who passed by.
Strangers frequently stopped to say, “You’re so lucky you have your mother. I wish mine were still alive.”
Every once in a while after a rocky night with my mother, I was tempted to say, “Well, our life together isn’t all peaches and cream.”