but I drove my mother to the airport today.
After a visit spanning five of the longest days I have ever experienced.
Longer and as grueling as the days I've given birth.
Longer and as painful as the days I've had root canal surgery.
Longer and more tedious than the time I sat in the school auditorium listening to kindergarten, first, and second grade students perform a Winter Concert that--(because singing songs about Santa or Frosty the Snowman would be too cliché)--was a musical tribute to the first flight of Wilbur and Orville Wright at Kitty Hawk--and no, I am not kidding.
Then there was the rainy day I graduated from college, and--after processing in with the rest of the cap-and-gown-wearing seniors--forgot to tip the accumulated rain out of my folding chair, and spent the entire graduation ceremony sitting in a cold, wet puddle.
My mother's visit reminded me of all these delights. AND MORE.
At the moment, the experience has left me feeling like a very old pencil. My wit is like the point; it's dull and might even be broken. My brain is the eraser end; it's worn down to a nub. My paint is showing wear, and in places, it looks like someone has been chewing on me.
You see, I decided that I would NOT HAVE A FIGHT WITH MY MOTHER no matter how hard she tried to make one happen.
Internet, I shall return.
After I've sharpened my wit.