. . . a little contact with Mom.
Mom recently moved and didn’t give me her new address. Which is fine, because I do the same thing to her all the time. If I wait too long to tell her where I am, she sends the police to my “last known address,” which, in her mind, is the home of my ex-boyfriend’s parents. From five years ago. They always enjoy those visits.
When it came time to think of sending a card or getting in touch for mother’s day, not only did I not have her address, but she had also shut off her cell phone and discontinued internet service at home.
No matter. I still heard from her today.
For a little background, you need to know that my mother sends me the most bizarre, themed, color-coordinated packages. For years – maybe a decade, everything in each package was purple because that was my favorite color during high school. Last year, she finally got with the program and sent me a package containing nothing but pink things. Pink erasers. Pink lace skirts to put on top of lamps. Pink plastic jewelry. Oh, and I guess for the following to make sense you should also know that I’m biracial, and my mother is white.
Today, I got possibly the best-themed present ever. And I’m not even a mother. I just got back from being out of town, and had a package from her waiting for me. I opened it up a few minutes ago to find just two things: The current edition of Vibe Magazine, and the current edition of Interview Magazine.
On the cover of Vibe, to the left of R. Kelly’s head, scrawled in my mother’s flowery handwriting, “Mostly Black Folks in Here.”
On the cover of Interview, to the left of Emily Blunt’s hip, my mother has written “Mostly White Folks in Here.”
Above the address sticker on the Vibe, she has written, “Do you know who to trust?”
What. The. F*ck.
This is the best Mother’s Day ever.
