First of all, she would kill me. My mother would kill—KILL—me if she knew I posted a picture of her. She hates people looking at pictures of her, which is why this is the only picture I have of her in my possession, and yes, I did take a picture of a picture. I don’t own a scanner.
I think I was 16 or 17 when it was taken. Maybe 15. Who knows. I have looked 30 my whole life, and since I am almost ACTUALLY 30, here’s hoping I keep up the trend for another few decades.
I wanted to write about my mom though. She flew out today after a three week stay. I took her to the airport. The short term parking was full. I had to drop her at the curb. I feel bad about that (it was hours ago and I still feel really bad about dumping my mother on an airport curb).
While she was here, I did a lot of the usual self reflection on how I am just like her, how I am so different, how I will really, no matter how hard I try, ever measure up to her in so many ways, and how I swear in others I will never be her. I won’t ramble on about the specifics. This will be long enough without it (and it’s not like anyone wants to have to read every word of this crap as it is).
I feel strangely free and alone without her. Like when I was a teenager and she left me home alone while she worked a long day—I felt so independent cleaning the house, cooking, having full run of the house and phone but really I knew she had my back. She would come home and fix anything I messed up, pay the bills, know what to do when I felt really sick.
So just after I put my little girl to bed and got ready to settle down for my “me time” I realized she’s really not here. I don’t have to do what she says (yes when she is here, I do what she says. I don’t know what she can do if I don’t, but I sure don’t want to find out the hard way!) and I have full run of the house. But when I screw up, who’s ganna fix it?
What if I oversleep tomorrow? What if I get sick? What if some one wants me to cook?
I guess I will press along. I think she’s still probably got my back. And anyway, my bathroom floor is the cleanest it’s been since…well…since the last time my momma visited.
I think I was 16 or 17 when it was taken. Maybe 15. Who knows. I have looked 30 my whole life, and since I am almost ACTUALLY 30, here’s hoping I keep up the trend for another few decades.
I wanted to write about my mom though. She flew out today after a three week stay. I took her to the airport. The short term parking was full. I had to drop her at the curb. I feel bad about that (it was hours ago and I still feel really bad about dumping my mother on an airport curb).
While she was here, I did a lot of the usual self reflection on how I am just like her, how I am so different, how I will really, no matter how hard I try, ever measure up to her in so many ways, and how I swear in others I will never be her. I won’t ramble on about the specifics. This will be long enough without it (and it’s not like anyone wants to have to read every word of this crap as it is).
I feel strangely free and alone without her. Like when I was a teenager and she left me home alone while she worked a long day—I felt so independent cleaning the house, cooking, having full run of the house and phone but really I knew she had my back. She would come home and fix anything I messed up, pay the bills, know what to do when I felt really sick.
So just after I put my little girl to bed and got ready to settle down for my “me time” I realized she’s really not here. I don’t have to do what she says (yes when she is here, I do what she says. I don’t know what she can do if I don’t, but I sure don’t want to find out the hard way!) and I have full run of the house. But when I screw up, who’s ganna fix it?
What if I oversleep tomorrow? What if I get sick? What if some one wants me to cook?
I guess I will press along. I think she’s still probably got my back. And anyway, my bathroom floor is the cleanest it’s been since…well…since the last time my momma visited.
3 comments:
Your hair is an absolute dream. It's a dream boat. I say this before even reading your post. Now i will go read.
i miss your mama. and she gave the best presents ever--those baskets of a bunch of stuff that centered around whatever theme-turning 16, going to college, whatever.
Wow, it is most impressive that you pretty much look the same now as you did back then. (minus the permed hair) I guess on the bright side of things you could say you look 16? Ok, after rereading that it didn't sound right...but really I meant to say you look good.
Anyways, moms are great to have around for a visit glad yours went well.
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