Jade Awakening

Mama Who Bore Me

Before I left Cat's house, she had insisted that I also take some make-up that she would never wear. In a small bag, she gave me eyeshadow palettes that contained smokey hues of color that were certainly too bleak for Cat's taste, black eyeliner, and mascara. I find it difficult to sincerely express gratitude to others, but I mustered up a good thank you for her. I held fast onto my new possessions and made my way back to my bike. Careful to not let Mom see the colorful hair extensions and make-up, I stowed them away with the Little Red Riding Hood costume in the pannier.

I made haste to get home before Mom could wonder where I have been this whole time. The muscles in my legs were shouting in protest at me for pedaling so hard, but I pushed on anyway. With hardly any obstacles in my path other than the occasional traffic intersection, I made it home at a reasonable time. When I dismounted from the bike, it felt like I had jelly legs. I decided to leave my new belongings where they were safely hidden. I could put on the make-up and extensions first thing in the morning when I arrive at school rather than at home where Mom would see it.

As I got close to the front door, I could hear Mom's music blaring through our sound system – was it Mozart? Bach?

When I entered, all I could do was stand speechlessly against the door. I recognized now that it was Beethoven's Fifth Symphony playing at top volume. In tandem with the fast tempo of the music, Mom was frantically changing the interior of the house. All of the furniture in the living room was pushed towards the center with plastic tarps covering them, various paint cans were scattered across the floor, and decor that was once on the walls or cabinets were now stuffed in cardboard boxes.

"Mom!" I had to shout over the orchestra, "What are you doing?"

"Oh good, you're home!"

She stopped in her tracks and went to turn off the music. Her hair was a disheveled mess in a bun and her clothes must have come from deep within her closet – clothes that she would not care if they got stains or tears in them.

"Come here, I'd like to have a second opinion," she called, standing by the kitchen island. Samples of tile backsplashes, countertops, and paint nearly covered the whole surface.

"Okay, so I'm thinking of this Warwick quartz for the countertop, these long hexagonal tiles for the backsplash, and... Oh I'm not sure what to do for the base cabinets. Do you think white is too common? Oh, but that would really brighten up the place – I don't know!"

"Mom, what are going on about? Why are you wanting to change everything?"

"To be quite frank, dear, I will lose my mind if I have to look at the drab condition of this house any longer. It doesn't appear to have had any work done to it since the 80s and I will not allow myself to be encased in it anymore."

"Okay... but why now? We've lived here for like 10 years and you've never even painted a wall before."

"Because," she laughed hysterically, "your father thought it would be a shame to change anything in this house – thought it would ruin its character or something. But for pete's sake, it was the 80s! This house is begging for some new life. And now that it's been decided that he will no longer be living with us, I can do whatever I want with it. So what do you think, should we go with Mineral Deposit, Acacia Haze, or Pearly White?"

I considered the paint samples in front of us and imagined them covering the current, dull, brown cabinets. As I did, a thought entered my mind: if Mom's already going to be changing the living room, kitchen, and who knows what other parts of the house in a manic craze, surely one more room won't make much of a difference in the end.