Finding A Little Courage
For several straight days last week my mom was in one ornery mood. I know this because my gauge for measuring the discomfort level is reliant upon how much my stomach churns when I hear her name announced as my cell phone rings.
Mental note: Buy a pallet full of antacids.
I know I’m being ridiculous because she’s a 78-year-old lady for crying out loud, and (say this with a little attitude) I’m a grown woman! Intellectually I’m aware of these facts but emotionally when she leaves me a voicemail; I cringe, cry, then create a flowchart to decide what would happen if I listen or don’t listen to the message.
It’s during these emotionally charged situations that I have to arm myself against the inevitable tongue lashings. So on this particular day I felt the need to wear a mesh cream-colored sweater with gold metallic threads and matching loop knot vest, jeans, black suede knee-high boots, and long strand of faux pearls.
When I visit my mom I never know what to expect and can use every bit of courage I can garner from my outfit. On this day I was cool as a cucumber.