Precious moments on phone with Mom

I’m writing from my office, real late on Monday night.

I just finished reading to my mom on the phone. When I’m working on a new book, I read to her every night, but we’ve had to miss a few calls lately. Mom had a total knee replacement surgery a few weeks back, her second in the last 10 years.

I was in college when all of Mom’s miles finally caught up to her the first time. Mom ran the Boston Marathon once. She also competed in more triathlons than I can count. If you’ve ever lived in Russellville, there’s a good chance you’ve seen my mother running, or riding her tandem bike all over town with Dad.

Her first knee surgery put an end to all of that.

I’ll never forget coming home for Christmas break and seeing Mom sidelined. We went to a Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert that December at what was then called Verizon Arena. When we made it to the front of the building, we were greeted by row after row of concrete steps. Mom didn’t think she could make it. I didn’t either.

So, I carried her.

When I was little, Mom’s favorite book was “Love You Forever.” It’s a story about a mother who sneaks into her son’s room at night and sings, “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

By the book’s conclusion, the son, now a grown man, holds his mother and sings the same song except for the last line, which he changes to: “As long as I’m living, my mommy you’ll be.”

That book sums up how I feel about my mom, Christy Elizabeth Cranor, the daughter of a hustler and a housewife from Forrest City. Even though I hauled Mom up the stairs at that TSO show, she’s the one who’s done most of the carrying over the years — especially when it comes to my writing.

Any time I tell other authors about how I read aloud to my mom, they can’t believe it. There simply aren’t many people out there willing to listen to roughdraft ramblings, night after night.

There aren’t many people who’ve endured two total knee replacements, either.

Mom’s doing much better this time around. I haven’t had to carry her anywhere. She’s already up and moving. But, sometimes, when we talk on the phone, I notice a worried tone that didn’t use to be there, a new concern in her voice. Mom’s pushing 70. You wouldn’t know it to look at her, though, not even this current hobbled version.

“When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced/The rich proud cost of outworn buried age … ”

Those are the opening lines of Shakespeare’s 64th Sonnet, a favorite of mine that I recite to my daughter every night before bed. It’s a far cry from the simple,

heartwarming message of Mom’s favorite book, but it’s true all the same.

Time comes for us all, eventually.

Which is why my nightly calls with Mom have become about more than just reading, so much bigger than getting the next chapter right. Those calls are precious minutes shared with my beautiful mother, each second, every breath, our own personal stand against Time.

Eli Cranor is the nationally bestselling, Edgar-Award-winning author of “Don’t Know Tough” and “Ozark Dogs.” He can be reached using the “Contact” page at elicranor.com and found on X (formerly Twitter) @elicranor.