Death and Spinach Dip

"Is your mother here?", she asks.

I almost choke on my spinach dip.

I had a similar conversation just last week while sitting in a hard bottomed chair in a sterile office looking at a man who could have been George Clinton (except he didn't resemble him at all).

Everyone has mother issues. It's a universal ailment these days. An epidemic.

The truth is....she's never been here...not really anyway. But I don't want to tell her that....she'll lose her appetite and I'll end up having to find her a box of kleenex.

"Is your mother here?", she asks again.

I snap back to reality.

"No she's dead", I reply.

"I'm so sorry", she looks at me with pity in her eyes.

"Oh don't be....I'm over it".