Sometimes my parents have a wicked sense of humor. Five seconds ago?
I demo Netflix functionality (umpteenth time) to Mom. Cut to a prison scene in original programming. A Latino thug shoves another prison inmate down and spits out a threat.
I jokingly say, “I’m thinking a neck tattoo is in my future.”
(I’m fiddling with subtitle settings so I’m not looking at Mom.)
“What do you think Mom?” Emphasized with my left hand gently stroking my collar bones.
Don’t get me wrong, “Between” is an interesting Netflix show. But not one to silence a room. So I look over.
My Mom has a look of utter sadness. I hit the pause button. Whatever this is has to Serious. Perhaps a phone call came in while I was out with Dad.
“What is it Mom? Is everything ok?”
A wrinkle fills her brow.
“Please tell me.”
The hairs on my arms are prickling with negative thoughts. It spreads like wildfire down my torso burning my spine.
Finally my mother says, “Don’t do that.”
And dimly the light turns on in my brain. And I reach for the remote a deep laughter escaping my belly.
“Mom! I’m not getting a tattoo.”
Her eyes tilted to my side of the room. Finally we were communicating.
“With you I never know. Please don’t do that.”
Can you imagine me with heavy cursive writing on my neck?
Mom says, “No!”
Alright then 🙂