Tagged: struggling writer

How much my mother believes in me

My mother says someone she doesn’t know sent her a Mothers Day greeting on her Kakao Talk.

I take a gander at her phone. There’s a Mother’s Day ecard from an Unknown sender. I dismiss it as a good Samaritan who needs a life sending out greetings to everyone.

And then I say, “Hey mom, Happy Mothers Day. You must be very happy.”

She says, “I’d be happy if you kids were making money and bought me a gift, but as it stands, I’m indifferent to the holiday.”

I say, “You just wait Mother. Once people start reading my book, word is bound to spread, and then I’ll start buying you gifts.”

She says, “I’m sure I’ll be a corpse by then.”

At least it was implied my work would eventually find its mark.

My mother’s sweet tooth

I finish eating my broccoli and I go to put the spoon I used into the sink, which is filled with bowls and dishes.

My mother says, “Bring everything that needs to be washed.”

I say, “I have the bowl I had for the broccoli, but it’s okay. I’ll use it to microwave my chicken in a bit.”

She says, “Bring it here. It’ll attract flies.”

I say, “It won’t. Flies like fruits and onions. Broccoli isn’t sweet to them. They only land on sweet things.”

And I say, “Just like you do,” inducing laughter in her.