I generally avoid Mother’s Day like the plague. It’s been a rough day for me since my very first one, when I broke up with my daughter’s father. Every year after that, I was either ignored, working, or just feeling insanely lonely. So, every year, I dreaded this day. I would have to coach myself through it— like, if I could get through this day, I wouldn’t have to endure another one for a year. Small miracles.
Today was a little different though. I didn’t wake up with the normal dread, I wasn’t irritated every time someone texted me Happy Mother’s Day… I even texted back (look, that’s a big improvement for me). I even went to work, and I wasn’t mad about being at work.
I have no clue what changed, but the weight of this day didn’t bury me today… and for that, I am grateful.
Today’s Story
I wrote this story a few years ago, based off an old memory. My mother has always been a rider, and this story was no different. She was never afraid to advocate for herself, and it is a lesson I continue to learn as well as one I try to convey to my daughter.
It’s true that some people treat you how you allow… and it is also true that you cannot always direct another person’s behavior. The lesson my mother taught me that day, was that we don’t cower in the face of hate or prejudice or ignorance. In the words of Kelis, “You don’t have to like me, but you will respect me.”
Magic
by: Katrina Mitchell
I don’t believe in magic. Well, at least that’s what my mommy says. We don’t believe in magic, or ghosts, or scary things. We believe in God. Mommy says magic is a trick of the devil.
But, standing here, watching this magician in his black cape, I don’t understand how this is bad. And, if it is bad, why is mommy letting us watch him?
He’s making birds appear out of hats. I want to do that. My sister is excited as we watch too. He’s pulling colorful handkerchiefs from his sleeve. The other kids cheer. I cheer too.
This magic must be good. He has on his cape and his big black top hat. He’s good. He has to be good.
He pulls out a really long balloon and fills it with air. He twists the balloon into a puppy. I want a puppy. My sister wants a puppy. A blonde-haired girl in the front row gets the puppy.
My mom stands further back, next to the Esprit clothing rack.
“Form a line if you would like a balloon animal!” the Magic Man says. My sister and I race to get in line.
We are sixth and seventh in line. I’m older, so I stand in front of my sister. It doesn’t seem to bother her. I look up, she’s next to me. I look up again, and she’s sixth.
A lady in a pink sweater and a jean skirt walks up and down the line, counting the number of kids.
“One, two, three, four, five—“ she pauses in front of my sister. “I’m sorry, he’s not going to be able to do more than five balloons.” My sister and I drop our heads. We walk back to my mother.
“What happened?” she asks. “Why did you get out of line?”
“She said they weren’t making any more balloons.”
My mom looks over our head. The rest of the line is still there. Magic Man is still making balloons.
“Let’s go,” Mommy says. We walk through to the other side of the department store floor. Mommy stops. Mommy turns back. My sister and I follow.
She walks back to where the Magic Man is making balloons. The line is still very long. And Magic Man is still making balloons. My mom takes our hands and walks quickly.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To talk to the manager,” she responds.
My sister and I sit on a bench near the wall, playing hand games while waiting for my mother.
“I like coffee, I like tea,” we chant.
“Would you like me to get the girls a balloon?” the manager asks.
“I like the colored boy and he likes me,” we continued
“No, but what I will be getting is a lawyer,” Mommy says.
“So step back white boy you don’t shine…”
“I think this is definitely something we can settle in house, “ the manager says.
“I get the colored boy to beat your behind…”
A few Saturdays later, a big box from the department store arrives on our steps. My mom drags it in the house. My sister and I stand, waiting to see the contents of the box.
Clothes. Esprit outfits. Dresses. Shoes. My sister and I take turns trying on the new outfits. I find a striped shirt with Esprit written on top. It’s mine now.
My sister finds a bright pink shirt that she wants.
“Can we have it, Mommy?”
“It’s yours,” she smiles.
Once we’re done trying on clothes, we play in the box. We get crayons and color the sides. We dump out the paper stuck under the flap.
It was a program with a crossword puzzle, word search, and word scramble. At the top is a picture of the Magic Man wearing his top hat. Book The Great Santini for your kids party!
“Mommy! Can we get The Great Santini for my birthday?” I asked.
My mom turns toward me and shakes her head. “No baby.”
