Yesterday you held my hand, now you hold your phone.
You drew me pictures, now you send emojis. You never left my side, now you rarely leave your room. You wore clothes with characters, now you wear labels. You played make-believe, now you play Fortnite. You checked for loose teeth, now you check Snapchat. You hid from thunder, now you barely shudder.
Yesterday I was your world, now the world is yours.
You can hear it in the air. You can hear it everywhere. Does she even care? Why does Mommy swear?
She swears at other drivers. She swears at rude connivers. She swears at messy spills. Is this how she gets her thrills?
She swears when she is late and she cannot find her keys. She swears when she is busy and must stop to take a pee.
She does it when she cooks. She does it when she cleans. She doesn’t try to hide it and she isn’t being mean. She sometimes swears a little, but usually swears more. She even says words that I never heard before.
Is it because she’s tired and always feels a bit perturbed? Or maybe that her hands are too full to flip the bird?
Why Mommy swears a lot is a mystery, you see. She seems to swear at everything, but she never swears at me.
I’m tired. It’s a tiredness born from from stress.
A week ago I had reconstruction surgery on my breasts after having a mastectomy last March to rid me of breast cancer. Everything went well, there were no surprises, and I consider myself lucky. I had my follow up appointment with the plastic surgeon, who seemed pleased with his work. I’m still sore, swollen and bruised, so it’s hard for me to agree at this point, but we’ll see.
I brought my little girl along for the two hour trek into the city. She was perfect at the plastic surgeon’s office, wonderful at The Museum of Contemporary Art, adorable at the playground. But…The Disney Store was one outing too much and her meltdown ensued right there on Michigan Avenue. I pleaded, “I can’t carry you because of my boo – boo.”
And that’s when you appeared.
You were older, maybe 70, and very nicely dressed. You told my daughter you loved her sparkly Hello Kitty boots and pink baret. You said they were nicer than any shoes you had. My daughter hid behind me and didn’t talk. You smiled at us. Then your expression turned serious and you said. “You’re doing a good job.”
And then you were gone.
You have no idea what that meant to me at that moment. Your affirmation made my day, and this was no normal day — It was a day I cleared a major medical hurdle. But at that moment you spoke directly to the heart of who I am. You somehow knew what I needed to hear.
And I thank you.