My mother is in her last days now. It's been a few weeks in coming, and as a silly coping mechanism, I decided to do a parody a day for each day she was still here. I had quite a few parodies already drawn and written.
My mother, a school teacher, read me so many poems as a child. I didn't like them, and so, as a bratty way to deal with them, I made up parodies. Once you start doing that, it becomes a habit.
So many dumb, dumb parodies run through my mind.
My mother also corrected my accent and grammar constantly. I remember her once saying, It's not bah-baby. You aren't a sheep. It's rock-a-bye-baby.
With a southern accent, bye, becomes bah.
Now, when I am in Virginia, I hear people saying bah, or rather, ba-ah, to each other as they wave goodbye.
I think I will be hearing her voice in my head even louder, at least for a while now.