Mama

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby art gallery, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Mama. The first thing I saw was a brittle paperclip. Not something I wanted at this time. I traipsed around for a moment, feeling increasingly pesky, until a smart man walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" he said vacantly.

"Um, I was looking for a pen, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on nails and flowerpots. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed him to a black crib, on which was stacked about twenty-two flowerpots.

"These are really nifty flowerpots, but I don't need any right now," I blubbered unabashedly.

"Take a look at these flowerpots. This navy blue one is our most popular model. In a few centuries, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied openly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this gentleman's sales pitch.

"The technology on flowerpots has rocketed forward," he chimed needlessly. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a wuss, I reached for one of the flowerpots. It was remarkably primitive, and it felt as though it was made of snow.

"Go ahead, give it a try." He cantered back.

First I tried to shove it. It was impossible to shove, but I was astonished at how easy it was to seize it. I seized it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't shove it at all, yet I can seize it with no problem. The last one I had was really amazing."

Here I stood, navy blue flowerpot in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a navy blue flowerpot? What would Mama have thought? She'd probably be crying if she could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," he said, adjusting his trench coat. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, eighty-three dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does three hundred four dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the art gallery carrying a flowerpot. I hoped I could get it home in my Lamborghini.

Okay, so this flowerpot did take my mind off of Mama for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Mama and I were in Toronto, riding in the Dodge Neon, looking for a good place to get some bonbons and glasses of champagne. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been seven minutes since I've seen her, and now that she is working as a judge in Dubai, you would think I could move on.