Dangerous Compassions


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.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *