I don’t have a mom. I have tried to adopt a mother many times in the 20 years since mine has passed away. But no one could fill her shoes. Nobody could hear my voice and know that something was wrong. Nobody would lay in the bed eating popcorn and watching scary movies with me. Nobody could make a 7 layer dip quite like my mother when I was sad. Nobody calls me on the phone, “just because” and we end up talking for an hour.
I finally realize that I will only have one mom. They broke the mold after she was born. I am so blessed to have had such a pillar of a woman to set the foundation of my life for 28 years. Sometimes, in my stillness, I hear her voice and feel her presence guiding me and reminding me not to take life so seriously.
My motherless status is magnified around Mother’s Day. Through the twinges of sadness, I feel the joy of knowing that I had the honor of knowing the greatest mother I could have ever had. She inspired me to be the best: wife and mother I could be. I love you, Mom.
The Mysterious Doggy Bag Heist
I rarely eat out. So, when I do, I splurge. I had a scrumptious dinner. I ate so much of the appetizers and the salad that I was too full to finish my yummy pasta dish. It had all kinds of mushrooms and peppers and capers. So, I got a Doggy Bag. I promptly put it in my refrigerator when I got home.
By lunch the next day, I was salivating in anticipation of my pasta from the night before. I looked in the refrigerator. I moved the Miracle Whip and the milk and eggs. No Doggy Bag. My food was gone. I questioned my husband, “Have you seen my Doggy Bag?” “No, check with your daughters, they probably ate it.” I went up to my daughters with my hands on my hips and my neck slithering like a snake, “Did you two eat my food?” “No, mom, we swear, we didn’t touch it!” they both claimed.
I didn’t get it. Where could my food be? I checked the trash for evidence of the heist. NOTHING. By this time, my stomach was growling so loudly my parrot began to squawk in reply. Maybe it’s in the freezer. Still, no food! Who did it, who stole my Doggy Bag? I stood there, dejected and starving. Finally, I decided to give in and make a peanut butter sandwich. While I was eating my sandwich, looking out the window into my backyard, I saw my Chocolate Labrador, Nelson, busy licking Doggy Bag container clean. My dog had stolen my Doggy Bag! Well, at least somebody had a good lunch.
Fed the pauper.
Not having money during the holidays
Delicious decadence drips from every TV commercial.
I could say, “That’s alright, I know the true meaning of Christmas.”
But, it wouldn’t be the truth.
I would love to take a vacation on December 26th to a Cabin in the snowy mountains.
Or take a trip to Hawaii and lay out in the Pacific sun-
I would love to spend thousands of dollars on the People that I love and appreciate.
I would love to choose a family and buy gifts and Christmas dinner for everyone.
But that is nothing but my masquerading reality.
How can I make this reality come true?
My reality is:
-that I’m not sure whether or not I will be able to
stay in my house.
-that I may have to give away my dogs because I
can’t afford to keep them.
-that they might repossess my car.
Or, should I focus on my masquerading reality instead?
Will I stumble like Cinderella when the clock struck 12?
I’m trying not to be so scared.
Maybe, with each step forward that I take
I can manifest the “prince charming” within myself.
Eventually, I shall make my masquerading reality my Life.