Thursday, June 02, 2005

A Horrible Morning

My mother stopped by this morning.

I love my Mom, and like my wife, she's been extremely supportive through this entire ordeal. Bit by bit, however, she seems to be forgetting the fact that I'm a man. I'm not a little boy.

There must have been a sale at Walmart, because she came bearing gifts: bags and bags of new clothes just for me. She knows my new sizes so a fashion show was completely unnecessary. Still, I could tell that she wanted me to try every thing on.

She settled herself into the leather recliner, the chair that used to be mine, and summoned me to her side. Like an obedient child, I immediately complied without a second thought. She peeled my t-shirt off and then went for the waistband of the sweatpants that I was wearing before I knew what she was doing. She pulled down my pants and wisked them away. I stood before her wearing nothing but my white cotton briefs. I don't think I'll ever get use to being this small. Looking up at her at that instant brought back memories I'd thought were long gone.

I am rather surprised that Cindy didn't intercede, she just stood by watching. And I'm not at all sure about this, but I thought that just for an instant, I caught her with a smile on her face.

I'm not a particularly modest person. As a man, stripping to my boxer shorts in front of my mother would have been no big deal. For some reason, this was completely different. I've never felt so small, naked, and insignificant in my life. I embraced my instincts and ran away, scurrying off like a tiny animal. Somehow I easily negotiated the steps to the bedroom, slammed the door behind me, and nestled in our massive bed.

I could hear muffled voices...Mom was genuinely concerned and apologetic. I felt like a jerk. Mom was about the last person I wanted to hurt. I should have swallowed my pride, presented myself to her, and allowed her to dress me in all of the new clothes that she bought for me. Instead, I curled up between the cool sheets and fell asleep.

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