Turkey. No Gravy.
I'm just gonna go ahead and put this here. On my blog. Where I know for a fact only three people visit. The one person that this is about probably won't see it, because she doesn't visit here that often. So here it is; Averie is going to Turkey in a couple of weeks, and I'm worried. And a tad bit scared. There. I said it.
I can't help it. I'm her mother, so I'm entitled to some worry. Geez, the girl moved out and has been living in Los Angeles for the last three years, and I worry. So what do you think the magnitude of worry in this situation might be? Bigger? You bet your sweet passport it is.
Don't get me wrong. I'm excited for her. She deserves this very exotic trip, to a faraway place. She's worked her ass off these last few years, without a break. It's high time she has a vacation. I just wish it were someplace that wasn't just in the news regarding some terrorist activity. Yeah, yeah, I know. Anything can happen at any place, at any time. Life is uncertain.
I certainly don't tell her my fears, although I know she can tell by my LACK of inquiries or comments, that I don't really want to talk about her trip. Until she comes back and she's safely in my living room. Showing me her pictures and such. THEN, I will be ecstatic, and I'll want to hear EVERYTHING from A to ever-lovin' Z. Sure, that may be a bit selfish on my part. Okay, maybe a lot selfish. I'm trying, believe me, I'm trying. I smile, I nod, I smile again. But all the comment I can muster is; "Maybe you shouldn't bring THAT particular dress with you on this trip." Or, "Remember, it's a Muslim country, so please dress modestly."
I know. I'm being, as Averie would say, "ridiculous". I'm being MY mother. Actually, no I'm not, because my mother wouldn't let me go. Even if I was 25 years old and a grown, adult woman. She would tell me I couldn't go and if I did go, she would disown me. But me, I'm better than that. I'm just gonna close my eyes and ears and not watch the news until she's safely back in California.
I can't help it. I'm her mother, so I'm entitled to some worry. Geez, the girl moved out and has been living in Los Angeles for the last three years, and I worry. So what do you think the magnitude of worry in this situation might be? Bigger? You bet your sweet passport it is.
Don't get me wrong. I'm excited for her. She deserves this very exotic trip, to a faraway place. She's worked her ass off these last few years, without a break. It's high time she has a vacation. I just wish it were someplace that wasn't just in the news regarding some terrorist activity. Yeah, yeah, I know. Anything can happen at any place, at any time. Life is uncertain.
I certainly don't tell her my fears, although I know she can tell by my LACK of inquiries or comments, that I don't really want to talk about her trip. Until she comes back and she's safely in my living room. Showing me her pictures and such. THEN, I will be ecstatic, and I'll want to hear EVERYTHING from A to ever-lovin' Z. Sure, that may be a bit selfish on my part. Okay, maybe a lot selfish. I'm trying, believe me, I'm trying. I smile, I nod, I smile again. But all the comment I can muster is; "Maybe you shouldn't bring THAT particular dress with you on this trip." Or, "Remember, it's a Muslim country, so please dress modestly."
I know. I'm being, as Averie would say, "ridiculous". I'm being MY mother. Actually, no I'm not, because my mother wouldn't let me go. Even if I was 25 years old and a grown, adult woman. She would tell me I couldn't go and if I did go, she would disown me. But me, I'm better than that. I'm just gonna close my eyes and ears and not watch the news until she's safely back in California.
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