i like trees

my parents left for canada when i was four, ran to the northern border and left me with my grandma in texas. the whole time, all i wanted was my mother. now, normally one would think of a grandma as someone that would play games with me outside and bake me cookies, but instead we stayed indoors and we watched soap operas and talk shows.

every night at 8:30, i would start crying for my mother. how i wanted her back, "right then." it, of course, never got me anywhere. one night, my grandma said, "it's 8:30, aren't you going to start crying now?" i did because i had a reputation to keep up.

the only thing that kept me sane was tea. celestial seasonings roastaroma, the tea for coffee lovers. i was four and i was already quite fond of drinking tea in the afternoons. my grandma had a bunch of japanese tea sets and she'd let me make it in the little pots with a bunch of little cups. i would imagine giving tea parties to a bunch of my closest friends -- tiffany, karen, tori and tim -- imaginary friends. i would drink all the cups myself and my grandma was worried about my large tea consumption, afraid it would keep me awake at nights. although, i would drink about three small pots a day. i never could get to bed on time, but that's always been a problem. even then.

the day, my mom was supposed to return, my grandma let me cook something in the kitchen. i made egg pancakes for my mother. i had no idea what i was doing but i liked cracking open the eggs. i thought i had invented them, but i guess the bloody french got to them first. my mom ate all of them. i guess she liked humoring her daughter, because i wouldn't even eat them. but i didn't like eggs either. something about the way omelets looked has always bothered me.

i still haven't been to canada. 
¶ 8:48 PM |