"There goes the kid rolling like a cockroach high on ethanol," I say enthusiastically into an invisible microphone.
"The father follows hoping to get a good hold, the kid continues to roll, the father high on stress looks as if.......,"
"He has been holding a fart for way too long," Daphne interferes completing my sentence.
" Whaaaat?" I look at her chuckling giving her an incredulous look.
"Hayden, you are no good when it comes to commentary."
"Oh, Daphne I am the fiery volleyball commentator of my high school. How could you say that?" I say feigning hurt.
"I don't even know what they see in you," she says while glancing at me sidelong with a look that says a bland caramel candy can do it better than you.
"Dramatic eye roll," I actually say it and roll my eyes even though my lips betray me with a wide grin.
She stops still so I turn to look at her. Stepping a few steps back, she steadies her glasses. Placing her hands on her round hips she rolls her hips exaggerating it at the back with her butt while shouting " Butt roll," in a sing-song manner. In the process knocking a kid down with her butt. While her fuchsia pink skirt decides to swish around like cotton candy in the process of making.
Not being able to help myself anymore. I laugh out loud grabbing the attention of the passerby's. They smile at us.
She looks around and turns red with all the attention. Hurriedly she walks up to me. Her fragile hands trying to hide her laughing lips, that were painted lilac.
She is a bizarre woman but I loved her. She is like a box of cupcakes except no two cupcakes tasted or looked the same. Full of surprises, full of colours.
"What are you looking at?"
Her trembling voice brings me back to the present.
"Nothing, which ride do you want to go on next?" we are at a water park. Although she is hyper she loves her comfort zone more than Romeo loved Juliet. Is it bad that I am jealous of her comfort zone?
"Nitro," her shout is so shrilly I place my hand on my pinna.
"Jeez, my eardrums aren't as thick as a Norway spruce."
"Huh?" she looks at me with her nose scrunched. " Cut this old lady some slack."
She drags me along to the shop. I can't think of anything except how blessed I am to have her. I have no idea why her children left her at the old age home. Her kids and grandchildren had moved abroad. They never for once try to contact her. As if she never held them in her womb and in her arms and cared for them more than she did for herself.
This woman amazes me and holds an entirely different place in my heart. She does not like stairs, so probably the bottom and so it will always remain.
