i woke to a phone call from my mother. she was in the neighborhood. that doesn't happen often. she wanted to come up to my apartment and drink coffee. i rolled out of bed, disheveled to say the least, just in time to respond to her buzz. she breezed in, sat at the kitchen table, and told me about her cooking class, her job, her weekend plans. once in awhile, she would glance around, taking a silent, subconscious inventory of her surroundings. never sure if i pass the screening, i shifted in my seat.
these days come with subtle differences hardly noteworthy as isolated incidents, but combined make up the waves in slow sea change. some call it growing up, and the 20s is ripe with examples. my mom becoming a friend, an equal, a confidant, isn't even all that rare or original.
this particular incident, however, is one i must admit i enjoy.
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