La Corte

As my mother ages, she’s becoming more and more afraid.  She’s afraid to pick up the phone.  She’s afraid to be out after dark.  She’s afraid of certain foods.  She’s afraid to not be home when the mailman comes.  Sometimes she’s afraid of things that are known, sometimes she’s afraid of those that aren’t.

Recently, she received a jury summons.  You can imagine what that did to her psyche.

To alleviate her panic (first at being called, second at the possibility of being fined for not showing up) I helped her fill out the form.  For those familiar with Los Angeles County’s form, you’ll recall it asks a series of questions.  One of them is something to the effect of “Do you understand English?”  Well, my mother does understand some English.  She argued she didn’t.  I asked if she’d be able to find the treasure if I told her it was on the 12th floor under the bed.

She said yes, so I told her that she shouldn’t be convenient in her use of the “no entiendo” card and, after talking to her about whether she felt she could answer some questions asked in a courtroom and telling her about how jury duty comes as an obligation of citizenship, she agreed not to ask for an excuse.

Then came the date of her service.  She got sick.  Really sick.  Take me to the ER sick.  We postponed jury service.

Then came the next date of her service.  And she got sick again.  This time a visit to her doctor was enough to get her service postponed.

Then came the next date of her service.  Well, you get the idea.

Finally, she felt mentally ready to go.  I’d prepared to go with her and troll the halls of Compton’s courthouse while she did her service (because, of course, she couldn’t go alone).  And then we had a fight about how I should have children because otherwise I’ll have no one to take care of me when I’m old.  We fought like mothers and daughters do when the mom wants kids and the daughter doesn’t. 

As if it would somehow hurt me, she announced she didn’t need my help with jury duty after all and left my house with a “y si ya no regreso, no te preocupes y no me busques.”  Yes, like any good mother, she left me with one of those messages designed to cause perpetual guilt if jury duty did somehow manage to kill her.

But it didn’t.  My mom dutifully took public transportation to the Compton courthouse and showed up for jury duty.  She enjoyed hearing the little talk they do on the importance of service and what it means to the legal system.  She enjoyed sitting in the hall and watching the legal system’s final resting place unfold.  Plus, she was dismissed by lunch, with instructions to return today.

My relationship to my mother has always been one of getting into and out of things together.  It’s getting harder when everything in life is scary, but I’m glad she trusted me on this one.