With Mother’s Day around the corner, I’m reminded of another story of my disfunctional family.
Many years ago (hell, probably close to 20), I had picked out a pretty damn good Mother’s Day card and little gift for my mom. I thought it was pretty bad ass, myself.
Come Mother’s Day, I went downstairs to put my gift on the table for my mother to find, only to see this beautiful arrangement of flowers. I mean, we’re talking a $50 bouquet here. I thought to myself, “Damn, dad hooked mom up.”
About that time, my sister walked into the kitchen.
“Hey loser,” she said. Her normal greeting to me. Shit, it still is, now that I think about it.
“Shutup,” I replied. My standard reply. I’ve gotten much better with that one.
“Oh, how cute. A knickknack and a card,” she said, referring to my gifts. “That’s much better than what I got her.”
“What did you get her?”
“Just some flowers,” she smirked, nodding toward the table.
“Nuh uh! Dad got her those!”
“Did he really? Oh, look, there’s a card right there.” She picked up the card in front of the vase. “To mom. From your loving daughter.”
“But you don’t even have a job!” I yelled as I threw my measily gifts on the table and ran upstairs to the sounds of her laughter.
Well, my mom loved both her gifts, but I could tell from her reaction that she loved the flowers more.
Until, later on that day, one of the neighbors came by.
The neighbor asked my mother to tell my sister that she would appreciate it if she didn’t cut the flowers from her flowerbed.
My sister stole the flowers for my mom on Mother’s Day.
I guess, in its own way, its love.
Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms out their, and here’s to hoping you don’t get stolen goods.