Mother to Daughter

I returned home this weekend from a whirlwind of work and fun during the Indian Summer Storytelling Festival. My mind a bit boggled with new ideas and my body just worn out from all the last minute details, I started my day Tuesday like any other. My eyes told me it was to early to wake up, so I listened to my three alarms for a good half hour and then forced myself to get ready for work. I walked through the doors and began setting up the restaurant and half way into serving tables I received a beautiful treat.

Two dozen lilac roses in a wonderful glass vase appeared for me. All my co-workers wondered who was courting me. I laughed at this because I knew who the roses were from: MY MOM!

I was asked recently in an interview if it was difficult working with my mom. I found this thought foreign. My mom and I have always been interested in the same things. We share the same views to a certain extent, and we both value community and culture and want to give back. Sure we have our moments of disagreeing, but we always talk those through. The only hard part about working for my mom is that others don't seem to understand how one can be building work experience with their parents.

Yet, I continue to learn so much from, and with, this women. She never gives up, she keeps going, she does what she is passionate about, she rolls with the punches, and she is able to control a room of people in the subtlest of voice. So to be able to learn from this women is an amazing gift. And to receive two dozen roses from this women is no small matter. It was a thank you, but more than that it's a symbol of our connection. Like Mother, Like Daughter, our relationship is ever growing. And I find it a blooming masterpiece to call her Mom, boss, friend.

Walking with my Cons.

As I walked to my regular coffee shop today, I stared down at my feet as they padded the cement sidewalk descending downhill. I wondered to myself: How long should one keep a pair of shoes?

You see lately, a lot of things have been going through my mind (and as I'm sure my friends could tell you I have been a bit preoccupied with my life and thoughts). But back to the shoes. My Cons. have been with me ever since 9th grade (though I should say I got them in 8th grade, the same day I received my first "grounding" from my parents--Crystal and I did the whole "we're staying at each others house" bit--which should have been a huge indicator that the shoes wouldn't fit and I would have to wait a whole year to receive the right size).

Anyhoo... these shoes have lasted through running, river wading, choir practice with three girls writing and drawing on them until all the white rimmed plastic was covered in art and ridiculous sayings, concerts, hiking, and well all that and more for 14 years. And the miracle of miracle is--they still fit.

So when do you throw a pair of shoes away? Especially, a pair of shoes that still retains the faded drawings and conversations of three young girls that called each other friends. If you have an answer to this random thought of mine please respond. If you are as perplexed as me ask a friend.