Once I was in the car with mom in Atlanta. She was driving me to Target to buy me a rice cooker for my birthday present a few years ago.
She pulled her big Ford Explorer into the parking deck, and swooped into the handicap lot near the door. She misjudged the distance, and bonked into a giant concrete pillar at the end of the parking space, giving us a significant jolt.
“We’re here!” she proclaimed.
I cooked rice in that cooker once, burned it, and could never get it out of the bottom of it properly, so I didn’t use it again. I told her it was still going strong, though. I’m so inconsiderate. I’m sorry mom, I miss you. Thanks for the rice cooker.
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I managed to read all of these entries and hold it together until I got to this one. They’re well written and touching. I’m sorry, Jim. And I’m going to call my mother tomorrow.