Where does the good go

A mother’s love

After a long crazy weekend of roadtripping with F-train and Karol, we were finally on the road back home to New York City.
F-train was chatting on his cell phone, when he said “ok, love you too,” and hung.
“Ooohh…who do you love too,” Karol pried.
“My mom,” he said flatly.
So’s her face.
“Hmm…my mom never tells me she loves me,” I said…about to add “when we talk on the phone,” until I realized…no…ever pretty much covers it.
“My mom does!” Karol piped up.
“Well la di da, your mothers love you. Maybe we should be a statue in your honors and put it up in the middle of the town square.”
When I got home, I drank some Nyquil for my cough and Tylenol PM for my sore throat and climbed into bed.
So, really, not so much a surprise when my mom called at noon and I was still in bed.
Of course, since I was on vacation for the last week and a half, in bed, was not where I was ‘posed to be.
I told my mom I would call her when I got to work and hung up.
I jumped in the shower, got dressed, grabbed my job ID and raced for the elevator.
But I had to go back because I forgot my metrocard and subway riding reading material.
I found the metrocard and the book, but then couldn’t remember where I had put my keys.
Half an hour later…I was ready to go again.
When I got to my building lobby, the front door was cordoned off for repairs…damn it!
Nuts to this, I’ll just drive in.
I took the elevator to the basement and drove like a maniac to Manhattan.
(Uhh…a maniac who follows all traffic laws and safety precautions, officers.)
Unfortunately, my exit at 42nd street was closed. And the next exit, at 61st street, was on the left hand side across three lanes of bumper to bumper traffic.
I am testing the bounds of PG-13ness, when I decide to just ride up to 96th street and then take Lexington back South.
Ohhh and it would’ve worked too…except there was some kind of street fare going on and Lex was closed off at 72nd street.
It was now 3 o’clock.
My cough was becoming persistent and my thoat was scratching and apparently GOD himself did not want me to go to work today.
“OK…Thy Will be done, father,” I said, making a beeline for the West Side Highway back to Brooklyn.
I checked my blackberry and phone for messages. Seeing none, I figured no one knew when I was getting back from vacation anyway and I could probably get away with taking the day off. Yes, divine intervention wanted me in bed watching my twenty hours of unwatched Tivo shows.
I grabbed some lunch and drove back home.
As soon as I opened my apartment door, the phone started riniging.
“Oh, thank God! What are you doing home? I thought you were going to work?”
It was my mother again.
“I tried, but I couldn’t get there.”
“Oh, cause you said you would call when you got to work and when you didn’t call I got worried. I called your job and had them page you and your secretary went looking for you — she said she’d call around to see it anyone had seen you.”
In a panic to searched my bag for my blackberry.
Sure enough, the senior associate on my cases had sent me three emails already since my mother’s page.
“Forgot you were back today. Can you come by my office to discuss XYZ.”
Oy…the jig was up…and no way could I call in sick now.
My mother was still on the phone.
“Dawn? Hello? Dawn?”
“Yes…I’m still here…I have to go though…I have work now…”
“What? You sound upset. Should I not have called your job? i was very worried. You could have been dead somewhere…”
Aw, see my mother loves me.
Of course, as I trudged back to the subway, hacking and wheezing the thirteen stops to my job, I just wondered why she couldn’t love me in a nice normal non psychotically paging me way, like the other mothers.

6 Responses to “A mother’s love”

  1. Alceste Says:

    So, did you start blogging immediately upon arriving at work, or did you see the senior associate first?

  2. Peter Says:

    Awww. Remember the time your mom thought you were missing (although she didn’t seem too bothered by the thought) when you were really in your room watching tv? I do.

  3. dawn Says:

    uhh..i know there’s a right answer to this question.

  4. Jake Says:

    You probably have the best mother of them all.

  5. DRobbSki Says:

    Be careful what you ask for…your mother might turn out like mine…

  6. Tom Says:

    Your story is one of only millions…but well said!

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