Que Sera Sera

"What does this say? I got a woman wanna ball all DAY?"

My mother is coming to visit me for the long holiday weekend. I’m looking forward to this, not just because my mom is a super nice lady and will probably buy me a meal or two, but also because I learned from my dad and brother’s solo visits what a rare experience it is to hang out with just one family member away from home, and apart from all the others. I felt like I got to know my dad and brother as people, not just as my dad and brother, and it was such a nice surprise to realize I’d hang out with them even if we didn’t share genes or owe each other money.

I’ve tried to pack our schedule full of activities, and I plan on keeping her slightly buzzed the entire time, number one because my mom is a lightweight and the cutest one-drink-drunk ever, and number two because some part of me is terrified that if there’s a lull in the conversation, she’s going to suddenly burst into tears and say, “Are you having sex?!” She’s only done this once before, years ago, catching me completely off-guard and thoroughly freaking me out, and of course I immediately and emphatically said, “What? No!”, which wasn’t technically a lie since I wasn’t actually having sex at that exact moment. That was the end of it, but the freak-lightning-storm quality of this exchange has scarred me for life, and I will take her to as many museums as possible to head a replay of this conversation off at the pass.

I also shelled out a little more money than I’d planned on to buy two tickets to Fiddler on the Roof, but I think this makes up for that time I turned around in the womb at the last minute and gave her that C-section scar, and also for when I was fifteen and wrote the lyrics to Led Zeppelin’s “Hey Hey What Can I Do” on the foyer wall. Let’s call it even.

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