Today, for Mother’s Day, my mom and I continued our tradition that we’ve had for the last several years. We went to see a play, then to dinner. This year the play was The Legend of Georgia McBride, a fun, lively, and hilarious (but also touching) show about drag queens. Well, about an Elvis impersonator/bartender who gets roped into being a drag queen (and ends up liking it) when one of the drag queens at the bar where he works doesn’t show up. Anyway, it was fabulous. There were sequins, wigs, and even a Judy Garland impersonation. My mom said, “I learned so much!” Personally, I just think it’s great that she’d attend such a show. A lot of parents (a lot of people) wouldn’t do that.

After the show, we went to Starbucks, which also part of our tradition. (The above picture was taken there.) This gave us time to chat about the show and catch up with each other. I don’t know, it’s weird when you live with a person (your parent). You’d think you’d talk to them all the time, but you don’t necessarily. And yet today Mom and I had such lovely conversation. This reminds me that it’s important to be purposeful with the people in your life. If you live with them, maybe get each other out of the house once in a while.

For dinner, we did the usual, Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. (By usual, I mean once a year on Mother’s Day.) Ugh, talk about good food. I had the ribeye, and Mom had the filet. And whereas we normally sit at a table, this year we sat in a booth–a high back. This made our two-hour dinner even better, since it afforded us just that much more comfort and privacy. And here’s the cool part. When I made the reservation online a couple weeks ago and they asked if I had any special requests, I just asked for it–a booth if you have it. And whereas I forgot about the request, they remembered. Today when they walked us to our table and took us to the booth section, I thought, HOW COOL!

Sometimes getting what you want is that simple. You just have to ask.

After dinner, I drove Mom home, and now I’m at a friend’s house, house sitting. Their dog is curled up next to me and was just making high-pitched noises in its sleep. I guess it’s having having a good (or bad) dream. Maybe chasing a rabbit. Anyway, I wish I were asleep too. Last night I went out to eat with a friend then to the symphony, and it feels like this weekend has been go, go, go. All the activity has been wonderful, of course, but I’m ready to slow down, ready to rest. I wish I could hit Publish.

But here’s something.

Today as Mom and I were leaving the show (so before Starbucks and Ruth’s Chris), Mom fell. She was stepping up on a sidewalk, and I guess her ankle rolled on the curb. I was right there, and it just happened so fast. The next thing I knew, she was lying face down on the concrete, her glasses, bent, lying on the ground beside her. Thankfully, she was okay. Well, she probably twisted or sprained her ankle, and she scrapped her hand and part of her face. I’m sure she’ll be bruised in a day or two. But she said she was more scared than anything else.

Ugh. Fear. I felt that too. It’s terrifying to watch someone you care about stumble and fall and not be able to do anything about it. As soon as it happened, I remember thinking, I don’t know what to do. I actually moved her purse from the street to the curb because it was SOMETHING I felt like I could do competently while Mom was re-orienting herself. Three people came over–a couple and an older woman. Y’all, they were so kind. Also, nobody knows what to say. I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you for checking on us.” It’s like all of us were kind of in shock, like, We can’t believe this thing happened. And we all wanted it to be okay. But it HAD happened, and although it was okay, it wasn’t.

As the evening went on, Mom’s ankle swelled more, and walking was harder for her. When I left her at home earlier, Dad had put an ice pack on her leg. So healing has started.

It’s weird the way your brain keeps playing pictures in your mind. What I mean is that although I know my mom is okay, that’s she going to be okay, and that she’s at home right now, I keep seeing her on that sidewalk. The whole thing reminded me of once when I was a teenager and Mom fell in our kitchen. I could be wrong about this, but I believe it had something to do with a medication she was on (or wasn’t on). All I remember is that one minute she was making Cream of Wheat, and the next minute she and the Cream of Wheat were on the floor. Just like that. (Gravity is fast.)

In that instance, Mom ended up spending a few days in the hospital. Honestly, I don’t remember how it transpired. Dad was in prison, so someone probably called a relative to help. Either before or after she got settled in, I probably cleaned up the Cream of Wheat, just like I moved the purse today. Because it was all I could do.

Fuck feelings.

What I mean is that feeling your feelings is difficult. Like today when Mom fell, I kept wanting her to be okay. Not just for her, but for me. Because it hurts to see my mom hurting, and it’s scary to think that things could have been worse or that this could happen again. You know, as long as gravity is a thing. And whereas Mom was OKAY, the fact is that she limped the rest of the day. The fact is the side of her temple was bleeding. There’s a scratch there now. Having watched Mom fall more than once, having seen her in the hospital, these things unsettle me. And it’s like, if she’s OKAY, I don’t have to feel scared.

But the truth is we all feel scared. Feeling scared is part of the human experience, and there’s nothing that can keep us from it. (Although whiskey and chocolate help.) Personally, I’m at a point in my journey where I’d rather acknowledge and feel my fear than ignore it or shove it down. Now, granted, I’ve been putting it off. Writing about it tonight, I saved it for the last thing. (This is called burying the lead.) Still, I’ve been saying that I’ve been trying to keep my heart open to WHATEVER arises, so I’m trying to keep my heart open to this. To feeling scared and being uncertain of what to do. Not because it’s fun but because I’ve shoved my feelings down enough to know that they don’t go anywhere–they just come up later.

So crap. Sooner or later, you have to meet yourself.

A lot of teachers say that when feeling your feelings, it’s important not to “run your story.” To me this means that when I’m scared I do my best to not tell myself, This is so awful. What if it happens again? Rather, I try to experience what being scared is like physically. My heart is beating. I can’t sit still. I have a lump in my throat. This is hard, hard, hard to do, but always brings me out of my fear-based fantasies and into the present moment. For example, after Mom fell today and she sat up on the sidewalk, I noticed that the fall was OVER and that there were kind, smiling people there to help us. This was my experience when I hurt my leg several months ago. Not that the situation was pleasant, but that it wasn’t as terrible as I’d made it out to be.