Reposting some of your favorites while this site is undergoing a make over
Monday morning. 8AM. Home phone rings. Caller ID shows it is Number One son, Paco. Dread stabs heart. It must be state troopers calling to say they have just discovered his rolled-over Mitsubishi in a ditch. They are calling from the cell phone deceased son was clutching in his hand, desperate to reach 911 (or his beloved Mom) in his last moments.
Second possibility. Son is calling to find out where his weekly allowance is. Naw, it’s waaaay too early for that; he wouldn’t be up for another three hours at least. Mystified, my hand slowly and reluctantly reaches for the receiver.
“Hey, Mom, how’s your day going so far?” Oh crap, there is way too much cheer in that voice for the early hour.
Wary. “OK so far, but what’s up?” Both elbows braced on the kitchen countertop. The better to keep me from tumbling to the floor when…
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