Another Reason to Love My Mother

Not only did my mother finally accompany me back to Atlanta, but she was willing to leave at 2:00 A.M. on Saturday morning. We both managed to get a measly two-three hours of sleep. Though I had foolishly bragged before the trip that I drive really well at night, I had not considered the after effects of attempting a road trip with a nap beforehand. At least, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it until I prove to myself otherwise. While my body didn't necessarily feel tired, my thoughts kept turning into the kind you get when you're dreaming, even though my eyes were blearily focusing on the mundane drive before me. I continued to switch my body and its extremities, shaking my head, and blink-blink-blinking. I would look over at my mother snuggled in a sea of pillows and stare at the mileage counter continuously thinking, "Just make it half way." I guess when my mother "sleeps," she is really feeling the car's vibrations with her heightened mother senses, because when I snuck it above a hundred, she would lazily open her eyes and look at me, at which point I would just remove my lead foot from the gas pedal and pretend to be coasting.

We managed to arrive in Atlanta at precisely 10:00AM, which was my goal because apartments weren't open until then. My brain quickly turned into goo after about four hours of apartment shopping. Though I had a notebook with every complex listed, armed with my digital camera to photograph each place of interest, I was just exhausted. I grew tired of looking; I grew tired of repeating myself; I grew tired of handing over my license; I grew tired of answering the same questions.

Because our time was so compact, there wasn't really time to try new places to eat. Most of our meals were fast food, but I did manage to get my mother into Vortex, which I posted about here. When the short-haired, tattooed, gut-bearing, striped stocking & tank-top wearing hostess asked us if we wanted to sit inside or on the patio, my mother quickly chimed in "The patio!" I furrowed and said, "But the patio doesn't have all the ambiance of inside." We took our seats, which faced these pictures.





She then says to me, "I think it's got great ambiance."

I said, "Mom, I love you."

On the way home, while I was reclined & somewhere near Jasper, my thoughts drifting on life in Atlanta, a CD of mine was playing. Though my eyes were closed, I was still enjoying the music. Then those first few chords of Seether's came on in "Driven Under," which happens to be the prettiest guitar playing on the planet. She turned up the song, and I opened my eyes with my refined daughter senses noting someone has tampered with my music. She glanced over, and said, "I'm sorry. I just love this song."

And with that, my heart swelled.