Like identical love birds perched on a branch, Beryl and Theodora Joseph sit side by side on a maroon velvet couch, watching their afternoon soap operas.
Like identical love birds perched on a branch, Beryl and Theodora Joseph sit side by side on a maroon velvet couch, watching their afternoon soap operas.
Without needing to speak, a telepathic kind of communication was evident between the mother and daughter. “We’re more like friends,” says Beryl, describing her relationship with her mother.
“We’re always sitting, chatting and cooking.”
“And church. Don’t forget church,” adds Theodora.
It’s no surprise then that Beryl has something planned for her friend, roommate and life-long companion this Sunday, Mother’s Day.
Nervously laughing at the idea of exposing her plans, Beryl explains that giving her mother a little TLC is in order.
“I will prepare something like dinner and some flowers,” she says guardedly, reluctant to give away too much about her plans.
When asked to describe her mom in three words, those telepathic sparks started flying – their smiling eyes said it all.
“Loving… Giving…” starts Beryl, “and kind,” Theodora concludes.
They even finish each other’s sentences.
“Mother’s Day is really important. We should celebrate all moms because they gave birth to us,” says Beryl.
Theodora enthusiastically nods in agreement.
“I am what I am because of her,” Beryl admits. B
eryl’s own grandchild, seated on the adjacent couch, announces that he also has plans for his mom.
“I will give her flowers, but then I want something in return,” the little boy says.
Both Beryl and Theodora throw their heads back and laugh.
