Betty Moses

It’s 5:30 a.m. on “hump day,” I’m sitting here in front of my laptop and my mind is pretty well blank. 

On any other day rather than Wednesday, my lack of cohesive thought at this early hour in the morning would be no problem.

Today, it is. 

That’s because, for some unknown reason, I have developed a seemingly-unchangeable habit of writing My Senior Moment at this ridiculous time of day. As I am very much a night owl and waking up early is painful for me, I don’t understand how it came to be.

Usually, some time during the week I will have an epiphany and words will flow as I’m eager to share it with you, but that hasn’t happened this week.

In the past, occasionally I have failed to write a column, but as I grow older — remember, I just turned 85 last week — my friends may fear that I have finally gone over the hill. One sweet lady actually called the office on a week that I failed to be productive and wondered if I had died.

This is great responsibility and I don’t take it lightly.

If this were a normal year, I would be eager to talk about plans to get together with my family for our annual Thanksgiving festival, complete with two dining tables and every counter in the kitchen loaded with a golden brown turkey deep-fried by my son-in-law, a large spiral-cut ham, dressing (not stuffing), sweet potato casserole, veggies and at least three different sweet treats.

After dining, we could sit around and talk about holidays when everyone was still with us, remembering that my dad would usually nap in the recliner and my mom would be busy in the kitchen. Relaxing a bit before cleaning up was not for her.

But this is not a normal year, so I anticipate that Cracker Barrel will figure into this year’s celebration.

We could talk about shopping, but I’m finding it difficult to make my list. Browsing Amazon, J.C Penney and Belk online is not the same as strolling through the mall while Christmas music plays, making me want to sing along and dance through the aisles of beautifully decorated stores. 

I want to see color and feel fabrics instead of looking at pictures and clicking a button.

I would love to work my way through the cosmetic section of Belk, trying on wonderful fragrances I can’t afford and thinking about having a makeup makeover. I never have, but this year I might have done it.

Last year, my son Jeff and I took the grandkids to Charleston to enjoy a magnificent light show. This year, there will be one nearby, but I’m longing to see houses covered in gaudy decorations and massive live oak trees sheathed in sparkling white lights.

I hope many are inspired to rival Clark Griswold’s over the top holiday display.

And I want to enjoy the sweet calm of gazing on a manger scene, embracing the true meaning of Christmas.

For someone who has nothing to say, I have certainly rambled on. 

Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts, whatever they may or may not be, as we all go through this strange time together.

I couldn’t do it without you.


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