Beauty And the Mustache
“― Ralph Waldo Emerson My mother put her foot down—figuratively—and ordered me out of the house the Friday after the raccoon attack.
She said I was hovering.
She was right. I was hovering, but I was actually doing a lot better overall.
I’d changed. I felt different. I was different.
As cliché as it sounds, the day of the bear chase and raccoon attack had changed me. It was like turning on a switch. One minute I’d been content playing dead, waiting to become a bear snack; the next I felt anxious ...and restless with unspent energy.
I was still taking care of my momma, watchful when visitors arrived to make sure they weren’t overtaxing her; spending every one of her waking moments with her and a lot of her sleeping moments too.
But now I was eating, talking to my brothers, voluntarily showering, and wearing clean clothes.
So, you know, behaving like a sane person.
The problem was, now that I had restless energy, I was making her restless. I think I was driving her a little nuts.MoreLess
She said I was hovering.
She was right. I was hovering, but I was actually doing a lot better overall.
I’d changed. I felt different. I was different.
As cliché as it sounds, the day of the bear chase and raccoon attack had changed me. It was like turning on a switch. One minute I’d been content playing dead, waiting to become a bear snack; the next I felt anxious ...and restless with unspent energy.
I was still taking care of my momma, watchful when visitors arrived to make sure they weren’t overtaxing her; spending every one of her waking moments with her and a lot of her sleeping moments too.
But now I was eating, talking to my brothers, voluntarily showering, and wearing clean clothes.
So, you know, behaving like a sane person.
The problem was, now that I had restless energy, I was making her restless. I think I was driving her a little nuts.MoreLess
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