Do I have control issues? Yes. Absolutely. 

Let me take you back to the Fall of 1991: I was 10 years old, a member of the PSA Drill Team in my hometown and it was Homecoming. Everybody (and, I do mean everybody) was going to be there! The most important piece to my uniform aside from the gold fringe and blue eyeshadow was my homecoming mum.

My Mother PROMISED she was going to have a mum for me and I would be a part of the celebration. Well, it was the night of, we were in the parking lot of the stadium and I turned to my Mother and asked, "Where's my mum?" She replied, "what mum?" I freaked.

I had given her ONE THING to do and she didn't do it. I was ballistic. I had a full-scale nuclear meltdown. There was glitter, fringe, and tears everywhere.

In one act of forgetfulness, my mother had RUINED my life. The other girls on the team would not take me in as one of their own, I would be seen as uncooperative and I would be that "one girl" which was not like the others. All because I did not have a mum. My Mom had forgotten. 

Furthermore, I could not believe I had trusted her to have my back. What a fool I was at the age of 10. I had been alive a whole decade and should have known better. What childish games was I playing?

Then, to my horror, my mother started laughing. I couldn't believe it! My face was still hot with rage. Next, she told me, "the show goes on," and we were still going to the game. After all, there would always be next year!

(I didn't believe her. Nothing made sense to me anymore. Not even the sun rising in the East and setting in the West. I couldn't trust my own Mother and I couldn't trust the Laws of The Universe.) 

My legs were like Jell-O as I walked to the back of our station wagon to unpack the trunk for the game. Then, I took pause. There was a white box in the trunk. The kind of white box that looks special and important. Gingerly, I touched it with my fingers and felt my mother looking at me with a smile. "Can I open it?" I asked. "Yes," she replied.

Inside this special white box was the most beautiful homecoming mum I had ever seen. My heart was bursting. My Mother had remembered. 

The rest of the night is a blur, but I remember the joy. 

This memory brings me to the commonly asked question, "Do you trust your scene partner?"

My Mom was my scene partner that day as she often is throughout my life. I lost my trust in her when I lost control of the scene. She wasn't reading the lines from the script I had for her, "Yes Winn, I have dutifully followed your instructions. Here is the mum you requested, O' Precious Daughter of Mine." Instead, she took her own path. She improvised.

We couldn't abandon the scene. Where were we going to go?! She's my Mother! 

But, I had to let go of control in order for the scene to evolve.  

Nowadays, when I feel a loss of control and the alarm bells are signaling a nuclear meltdown... I remember:

The mum is in the trunk.  


I am grateful for my purpose.

with love,