Sister Mother

TBB likes to drive, and she knows where she likes to stop. 

I know how to practice self denial, to be “gracious.”   That’s why I rode with my legs crossed tight for a while.

But in Macon, the dam burst, and the cup from Krystal was urgently pressed into emergency service.  It was a mess — my dress, the seat, undepants and all.

We stopped at a Wal-Mart and dumped the cup. I went in to clean up, and TBB bought some absorbent pads to soak up the mess.

It was odd, down to the Mennonite girl waiting for my stall.

If I had known that this was was going to happen I might have avoided the trip.  But the truth is that when things happen, I’m pretty good at handling them

More than that, TBB is good at it too.  She took charge, and when I tried to go and get upholsery cleaner, the heel cap of my shoe falling off.

Yes, I know how to be the mother, good in battle. But that doesn’t mean I always have to fight.  TBB wanted me here for a number of reasons, but one is because she feels better with family around, and she knows that we are sisters.

And in this moment, I had to accept that she was my sister mother, another mother who could just take care, and in this case, I needed to let her help me.

Two lessons there; the first about the cost of denying what I know to be true for too long, about speaking up for what I need when I need it. 

And the second about trusting sister mothers.

I know I’m a hitter.  Our bellman winked me into the freight elevator when the evevator line was clogged, knowing from me pulling much of the luggage while the cart was full of TBB’s hanging dresses, that I was someone who knew how to work it.  “Powerful in battle,” as I found out that my name suggests.

And TBB, who swore she was just going to stay in the background this year at her signature event, an interactive murder mystery evening, after another gal was called “the new TBB” last year, was called on at the last minute to be the sparkplug again.  The staff at the theatre said she was the best they had seen.  All that desire to blend in, to hide, and her nature wins out, shining with her own beautiful inner spotlight. 

But we can’t do it alone.  And we can’t do it in silence.

Thanks, sister mother.