There is a very real chance I am in jail right now. Actually no, that’s not true because our plane doesn’t leave until tonight. But there is a very real chance I will be in jail tonight because I am traveling with my mother who does not believe rules apply to her. No, she carries 4 oz. of liquid in her carry-on because, well, why not? It’s not like her carry-on would ever fit in the overhead bin anyway. Her purse overflows with tweezers, lighters, prescription pills rattling loose in unmarked containers—so help me god, if she makes one joke about the explosive properties of a crushed Xanax mixed with two parts mouthwash I am going to pretend I am not with her and stand next to the nearest 65 year old woman who looks like she makes a mean casserole. (The TSA pat down should be interesting, though.)And if I am not in jail tonight then I will most certainly be in jail tomorrow, because tomorrow we go to Disneyland, and my mother has never been to Disneyland. Which is where that silly rules thing might come up again since she pays no mind to designated smoking areas. (At least it should be the happiest jail on earth.)
So yes, this weekend Zoey, my mom and I are going to visit my brother and his wife where my dad will also meet us, and time will fold over onto itself, a synchronicity of a family in front of the Princess’ Castle where we will have our picture taken as if The Great Divorce of 1992 never happened, a Portrait of a Family as What If. God grant me the serenity…
Back on Monday no doubt with stories.