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A mother’s love

You know how people say, “With a face only a mother could love”?* Well much like cleaning up Nugget’s nuggets is a job only this mother deserves, moving always proves to be a load only my own mother can help carry. Not to say that a few capable men with pick-up trucks didn’t help (when bribed) in Nashville, but my mom’s visits transform each new house (mini-studio) into a home. She has that maternal instinct for meeting a space’s potential both financially and functionally.

Here I almost said, “What would I do without her?” But I know what I did without her: left IKEA empty-handed, excluded a toilet brush from my budget, ate grilled cheese for every meal, stole shampoo from my gym…need I go on? The lesson you learn in early adulthood that you could never appreciate as a self-entitled teenager is that no matter how much you and your parents differ on opinions, they will always know what you need that was a given up to this point. You realize all of the things you never acknowledged before when you’re suddenly responsible for their presence. Sure your first place has a pantry and cupboards, but you have to fill them, and you’ve rarely added that into your rent budget.

In Nashville this was a less harsh reality as rent was $350 a month and I was used to supplying my own food in the dorms as I hate cafeterias more than dentist offices. Even there, my mom saved the day by purchasing the home accessories college students suffice without: kitchen towels, chip clips, real food, a crock pot, an iron every time I moved, an ironing board every time I lost my iron, etc. Like every situation except mani/pedi’s, New York is a whole different story. When rent exceeds four-digits, food is like a Christmas bonus (as if I know what that’s like). I can justify buying bread and cheese every week or two, but I can’t afford the vegetables I love much less the nourishing poultry or fish I need. This is where my mom comes in…every time.

Between grandma duties, teaching, and flying to Phoenix, Ni squeezed in four days of motherhood for my relentless NYC adventure. Sure, she got a memorable Ellis Island day out of it and saw my new favorite museum for the first time, but she also faced the worst case of cab driver scenarios and rain-ruined plans on the way. As pictured, not only did she point out that I needed a place to store food, she provided the food that’s bound to last this infrequent eater a few months. Confession: that is the most stocked those shelves will ever be.

So thanks for all of the food, cleaning supplies, and home necessities. Most of all, thanks for the fan and toaster oven, which are the material representations of comfortably maintaining my weight. On my unemployed budget I may have never made it to Lady Liberty despite her proximity. I finally feel at home, or as close as I come outside of the Sunshine State. Nugget misses you!

Now if Dad could come right as my supplies dry up…kidding. Thanks for funding and fending for yourself for a bit pops! Love you both to death.

*Actually, people I know say that, but I just realized it may not be a universal phrase…is that particular to the West Orange youth group? Someone let me know.

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