Home again, home again, jiggity-jig! There's no place like home. Home, home on the range. Home is where the heart is. Home, sweet home. Bet you didn't even know I was gone.
I was at my mother's, checking items off her list. Wendy was also to go, but I asked her to stay home to tend to our neurotic dogs. More about that later perhaps.
On the agenda was a Friday morning meeting with my mother's lawyer/financial advisor to discuss arrangement of her resources for maximum advantage. My mother, she worries. My mother, she needn't worry as much as she does. There's a lesson there for me, I think.
That morning, she brought me a piping hot cup of coffee before I got out of bed. My coffee karma is some powerful shiat. Somewhere, sometime, in another life I must have spent a great deal of time bringing coffee to people in bed because I'm surrounded with folks who bring me coffee in bed. Lucky me.
Showered and dressed, I joined her in the kitchen for breakfast. She burst out laughing when she saw me. I had on black slacks, a black turtle neck and a muted orange silk blouse. Nothing amusing about my attire, I thought. Is it my hair?
"I'm going to wear a jacket almost an identical shade of orange!" she chuckled. "We'll look like twins." I noticed then she also had on black slacks and a black turtleneck. Oh geez.
"Well you'll have to wear something else," I said logically. I had only packed one appropriate outfit. She had her entire wardrobe from which to choose.
"I can't," she protested. "I painted my nails to match the jacket!" She splayed her fingers out for me to see her nails. Indeed, they were a lovely muted shade of orange.
About my mother. Jewelry, make-up, clothing, shoes. She goes to great lengths to coordinate such things. Me? Not so much.
After breakfast she disappeared into her bedroom and returned carrying a rose-colored suede blazer. "Wear this instead of that blouse," she commanded. Resistance was futile as well as impractical. We're enough alike without dressing the same.
Why does that thought scare me so?
.
5 comments:
i understand.....oh yeah, i do understand.
glad you are back, was beginning to wonder if you were taking a break.
and so you were, but for a good reason. you are a good daughter.
me thinks you earned your coffee delivered, past life or no.
Being more and more like MY Mom everyday, I sympathize with the "scare factor." You just can't escape it, you know? Many years of living with her as a child, sharing half the ol' DNA with her, it's inevitable that much of you should resemble her. Funny how our Moms turn into human beings the older we get, eh? One day, if you find yourself matching nail polish to your chosen outfit, you'll KNOW you've gone right over the maternal edge!
You're a good girl (:>) for being such a huge help to her when she needs it.
I am scared to death of turning into my mom. Most of my friends, as well as my sweetie, find her annoying with her constant, unsolicited motherly advice. And yet I think it's happening anyway. I won't go down without a fight!
God, your hot
RSM
redsockmonkey.livejournal.com
it's frightening to me sometimes when i walk past a mirror and have to do a double take. it is often my own mother staring back at me.
just found your blog. i enjoy reading your writing!
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