Red Lights

"I won't be here two weeks from now," my mother said at the outset of her last weekly visit.

"I wish I could say the same," I said.

"Are you talking about dying again?" she asked.

"It's more a wish than a discussion," I said.

"Remember, I get your iPod when you die," said my youngest.

I swatted at him but he ducked.

"Lucy, kill!" I instructed our dog. She tried to crawl into my lap. I swatted at her but she ducked too.

"Where are you going?" I asked my mother, feigning interest.

She began reeling off the names of the countries she planned to visit on her latest expedition. I reached for the last piece of bacon but the middle child beat me to it. "You can walk to soccer tonight," I muttered at him.

"I'll be finishing up in Brussels," she said.

"Like the sprout?" I asked.

"Like the country," she replied.

"It's not so much a country as a collection of feudal estates ruled by warlords," I said. "Why would you go there?"

"It's supposed to be a lovely country."

"I guess. If you like raw sewage."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Don't you ever look at a guide book before booking a trip?"

"Where would you like to go?" she asked my oldest, rebuffing my efforts to help. My mother recently offered to send each of her grandsons on a lengthy trip between their junior and senior years of high school

"Australia. New Zealand. The South Pacific," he said.

"Excellent choices," said my mother.

"At least they have plumbing," I said.

"We have plumbing," said my youngest.

"It's more a straight pipe to our backyard," I said.

"That's disgusting," said my mother.

"You're going to Belgium," I said. "Get used to it."

"Should I bring you back any magnets?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"A war crimes tribunal magnet from the Hague. And one from a coffee shop in Amsterdam that has a picture of hash on it."

"Hash?" she asked.

"Marijuana," I said.

"As in 'I'm just holding on to this for a friend?'" she asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, glancing nervously at my kids.

"Oh, nothing," said my mother, smiling sweetly.

"Have a nice trip," I said.

"I will," she answered.