Mom gave me riches in the form of postage stamps, cash, costco gift cards, and Trader Joe’s gift cards. “I never want you to be hungry,” she said.
I told her I wanted to play with the gift cards, but I didn’t want to be like Scrooge McDuck counting my money. Swimming in a swimming pool of gold.
There are Scooby Doo stamps. Scooby is watering a flower in a flower pot with a watering can that he holds in his mouth. He looks slightly awkward and very earnest. Good dog.
The cd said it was a certain album, but Dad had put a bonus song at the beginning. Mom danced as she swept the floor, making small, fancy steps. “You look like you know what you’re doing,” I said. “Did you ever dance like that?” It was Mexican dancing.
When they lived in Santa Barbara, walking to the courthouse, seeing the colorful dancers.
“No,” she said, sweeping.
I remember when my friend was a baile folklorico dancer. He had a performance at the big haunted auditorium at Santa Maria High. His mom was working as an admissions cashier, and I didn’t have enough money to get in.
“I could cover one of my eyes and pay half,” I told her. “I could stay for just the first part.”
She laughed at me, thought I was ridiculous, and paid my way. I probably already told you about that.
