Old Mrs Russo

My family had been taking meals to Mrs Russo since her hips started giving way a couple of years ago and she got confined to her wheelchair. Every couple of nights either me or my sister would take a portion of lasagne or tagliatelle over to her. my mom thought it was a civic minded thing to do, to give the old widow company and a hot meal. She was cantankerous though. Sharp as a tack - Always had a criticism for me, the ways of youth today or just the world in general .

I put her pasta down on a tray on her table when I got in.

"How are you today Mrs Russo?"

"Hah - how would you be if you couldn't straighten up or walk! You don't know what you've got. If I was only 20 years younger. If I could get out of this, this chair". she started to moan

"You'd still be 65!" I laughed. "Wouldn't you rather be 60 years younger."

"Hah. Whats the point in wishing?"

"Ok. 20 years it is. but I'm looking for some serious gratitude you miserable old cow."

"Old cow! Old Cow is it? If your mother could hear you. Why if my Roberto was here, he would teach you some manners. Old cow indeed. Cheeky young brat".

I snapped my fingers. "Mrs Russo's skin began to tighten, her back straighten and her eyes look less reumy. Her hair has become darker and thicker.

"What. What is happening? I feel so..."

"Miserable old cow", I repeated under my breath.