I’ve always thought of myself as pretty resourceful. I can make something out of nothing. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I can make a meal out of ramen,eggs, and a lil parsley. I have shopped at the Goodwill for my children and had to stretch $50 for school clothes. I’ve been on welfare and food stamps and used it as a stepping stone until I could land on my feet. I don’t get scared in so called bad neighborhoods and I’m always prepared in any situation.
Over the past ten years my children have gone off to school , I found better employment as has my husband. We have changed cities and went from a two bedroom small house to a three level home in the suburbs of Columbus, Ohio. I found myself going from, survival mom to supportive mom. I could be the volunteer mom in the classroom. I was the mom at all the events. I’m the mom who is friend to all moms.
Slowly I was at Khols every week with my Khols cash. I steered clear of seedy neighborhoods. I became ” that suburban lady”. Is this the hood? I can’t be in this neighborhood? I was up in the morning at Starbucks, I don’t even like coffee. I started to realize I’m always calling myself hood, and all, but I have more in common with the suburban folks than I do the hood.
I guess I need to embrace that now I live in Irving/ Las Colinas another suburban town. I do brunch on Sundays and Saturdays. I volunteer at the YWCA on my off days and I live for Neiman Marcus 20% off sales. As empty nesters we attend wine tastings, karaoke nights, and r&b concerts on a reg. I guess what I need to do is embrace the hood as my past but admit that the suburbs is where I’ m at and where it’s at.
Last Wednesday my son boarded a plane and flew to France. Now this is not his first time there. He went for a week his senior year. He’s been excited for months.everyone has been asking questions about where he is staying, Lyon. Will he be safe, USAC says he will be fine and his host family goes through many security checks to have students in their homes. He will be there the entire semester, back the end of May.
We have been preparing for the trip for months. The night before we double checked to make sure he had everything, we had a last night dinner at Dallas’ own Uncle Julio’s Mexican Restaurant. I was fine, until he boarded that plane. He was no longer a 20 yr old boy. He was that baby born in the backseat of a car, he’s the two year old with braids, he’s the kid who had his phone stolen in Chicago by trusting someone he didn’t know.
I became scared. Will he be okay on the plane to Chicago,then Germany,then France? Who will make sure he doesn’t spend his Euros at one time? Will he remember Tide, toothpaste, and to buy dress shoes? Does he know who to trust? Then I stop myself. We have discussed these things. He has been raised well. He knows the language and it’s time to allow him to grow up. It’s time to let go of my little boy. Trust that we have done our best. Let go of that little boy and trust the man.
I had the pleasure of hanging out with most of our brat pack over the holidays. We had the grown ass kids and the lone teen. There were our normal characters and some that we haven’t seen in years. This Christmas the theme was putting the pieces back together. Matter of fact this whole year has been about mending, and renewing relationships. My husband’s Dad was all about family and all about making sure everyone has a place.
This year the pieces are coming together. You know when the pastor talks about getting things that you lost back? Well this Christmas put the seal on that phrase. Slowly but surely everything that was lost,misplaced, or severed has been mended. From people to credit and money, friends, everything is right where it’s supposed to be. Now it’s up to us to take care of all of the gems we’ve been given.