This one’s for you, Mom

My 91-year-old mother finished reading my book today, my first novel, and it made her laugh. It brought her joy. Her only son, the one she took the picture of when he was barely past two years old reaching up to the typewriter just beyond his reach, had written an entire book.

“We should have known then,” she told me.

If that’s not success…?

I call my mother pretty much every day. Not just because I love her, but because she’s 91 years old and I will not be the son who, after she has died, will reminisce and try and convince myself how important it was that we spent such good about ‘quality time’ together since I couldn’t afford to spend actual time.

Bullshit. Time is time. And when it’s gone it’s gone. So don’t even bother trying to do more with less. Because less…?

Is simply less.

Tomorrow we’ll talk again, and I’ll know that another prayer has been answered.

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Writer and musician.

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