Living for two
I went to take mom on errands this morning and our Saturday brunch was moved down to lunch – we sat in a booth in the dimly lit bar at Houston’s on Veteran’s Boulevard and I told her about Mardi Gras – brought her pictures – we traded quips by Ivette, we laughed about some of the goings on from the Endymion party, I told her about Fat Tuesday and my MGGF – and we laughed and laughed and laughed about a number of goofy fun things that have happened over the past week.
She looked up at me at one point and said, “You are Wonder Woman, honey!” And I felt a twinge of sadness surface – just knowing that my mother was such a beautiful woman, still is, and while she had an interesting life – living all over Central America, Panama, Cuba, Puerto Rico and the United States – she did hardly any of these adventures on her own – once on her own, she has basically kept to a radius of about twenty square miles of living territory, under a veil of fear and mistrust and paranoia.
It is deeply satisfying to bring her into my life and share with her my friends, my parties, my details of drama and amor, as well as the pictures that I upload to her Ceiva (which is broken right now, hence having to print out MG pics).
When I first moved back to New Orleans, mom disastrously went from being a blonde to a redhead and accused Henry of coloring it red by mistake.
I know I’m living her life for her. That is why it has to be bigger, bolder, and wider than just one person’s life.
I thought about my friend, who was born a twin, but the twin died during delivery. My friend told me one day while we were eating crawfish and drinking beer that she had to live two lives – that she owed it to her sister.