It Must Be Long Enough That She's Forgotten

Friday, June 29, 2007

The other night, as Donna and I were getting ready for bed, a timid knock came from the bedroom door.

One of the kids needed some leg-ache medicine, we figured.

"What do you need?"

"Can I come in?", my mother's voice came through the door. She obviously must have broken her watch. Otherwise she would have known it was past her bedtime.

"No."

"Why not?", as she opened the door, oblivious to the idea that not everyone on the planet was necessarily wearing pants.

"What do you need, mother?", my toothbrush vibrating away in my mouth.

"Can I come in?"

"NO!"

"Fine." She closed the door and stomped back to her basement lair.

"Baby, you can come out of the closet now. She's gone."

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