The Stick I Had to Have: Or, Why I Don't Mind Celebrating My Crazy
You might wonder why I have this really long stick in my house. You would be smart to do so, but let me tell you the story of this most awesome stick.
Last week, while I was walking, I saw this stick on the side of the road, and I really,really wanted it, but I did not want to carry it around and look so obnoxious. Today, as I was walking, I saw the stick again, and I was so stoked. I decided that I was going to get it home one way or another.
Mi madre was supposed to walk the last mile with me, and I thought well, I'll get it when I walk with her because I won't feel so silly with the stick if she's walking with me. But mi madre decided not to walk, so I was forced to just get the stick and bring it home.
I called mi madre and told her to come outside so she could see my stick. And I'm laughing right now as I finish the story because it's so freaking stupid.
I am smiling so hard as I walk up the street with my enormous stick, and as soon as I see my mother, she's like, "My daughter is crazy," and I fall out laughing. And then she's like, "You know I think they're on to something when they say the oldest child is always the craziest."
I laughed and replied, "That's probably true because the oldest child has to bear the brunt of more responsibilities at an earlier age, and they freakin' snap." But I told her how happy I was to have the stick and how I was going to part the brown wood of my hardwood floors at home just like Moses held out his staff, and the Red Sea was parted by God.
She shook her head and smiled at me and said, "I love you despite your craziness."
