Thursday, August 03, 2006

"Drugs, Mom, drugs"

"You need drugs, Mom", he said from somewhere behind me in the darkened kitchen. From my perch on the stool by the stove I couldn't see so much as hear his eyes rolling. It's hard ,when you're nineteen and know everything , to be patient with your aged mother ["Dude,they were thirty nine when I was born!"] when she's hunched over the stove at two in the morning, heating milk for hot cocoa ."...and guess what she's reading? ---my freshman composition book ---'Style--ten lessons in clarity and grace'! I mean, get a LIFE.

Old people should be in bed, asleep, that time of night so that us nocturnal creatures can peacefully bang and clatter around the kitchen, foraging for something to still the munchies. And why is she up, stirring and reading so late? Get this--I'm chillin' with my friends, it's late, my phone rings, she wants to know where I am and why I'm not home, so she can get to sleep. Seriously dude, look at me . Six four, attitude to spare --who's gonna mess with me? And she thinks I can't take care of myself?!"

Plate loaded, mission accomplished, he kisses me paternally on the back of the head, whispers "drugs mom, drugs', and vanishes into his room. I sip the last of my cocoa and reach the end of the chapter. As I'm closing the book I notice my bookmarker , a relic from years of raising children, says "say no to drugs". Cocoa is drug enough for me. Maybe now I can finally get to sleep.

1 comment:

Kelli said...

Welcome to the world of blogging! It will certainly get addicting.

So, I tagged you -- now you're "it" and you're supposed to fill in the questions I wrote (5 items in freezer, etc.) with your answers.

I'm looking forward to reading your posts!