I don’t want to ever take it for granted. Not one bit of my luck. Where I can have a movie night with my mom, who lives a few minutes down the road. Where we can eat Pizza Hut and order the same thing on different styles of crust and share good red wine: Bellissamo and then Merlot, both from Grape Creek, the Texas wine club that now ships to me every other month.
We eat and drink standing around my kitchen counter and she brings out small goodies from her shopping in Strugeon Bay: a box of Christmas matches, a kitchen towel with gnomes on it that says ‘Gnomre for the Holidays’, and then two pairs of fuzzy holiday socks. We each take a pair and put them on.
We watch The Prom on Netflix and it’s great. I cry really fucking hard. She loves it too and looks up facts about Meryl Streep. How lucky am I to have a mom who will watch queer movies with me?
As I get ready to spend an evening tonight with both my parents (I’ve been told the agenda is woods walk, hot tub, dinner, and then movie night – we’re watching the new Charlie’s Angels), I can’t help remembering how many years I wanted to be here. Simple joy and belonging.
With Love,
Natalie