Nail Spa

Last night, I came up for air. After a hard day working on this super long manuscript, I decided to treat myself to a massage and a foot spa. I was already waiting for my feet to be pampered when Mom called, asking where I was. I told her, and encouraged her to come join me. She too had been working that day (Yes, that's right, we were working on a Saturday, in the middle of the long weekend, but that's exactly how we were brought up; "Work, work, work," that's how my sister B described it).

Soon enough, my Mom and Dad joined me; and so, there we were all sitting on a sofa, chatting while waiting for our feet to get pretty. And Mom being Mom, she started talking to the attendants and the owner of the place. Just a little backgrounder, I have been going to this place for months. I like the service. But I'm not the type who'd just talk to strangers at salons. I usually have a book or a magazine with me, taking the time to catch up on my reading. And so, I really did not know any of them. But not Mom. By the end of her pedicure, she already knew where the attendants lived, who the owners were, and how they came to put up the place. I, of course, still did not know a thing.

Sometimes, I want to be as fearless as Mom, as charming as her, as curious. Sometimes, I want to grow up to be just like her. But sometimes, I think that it would just be too exhausting.