cigar flashback
In midcigar, I had a flashback: a couple of Memorial Days ago, we were all sitting out on the deck at my parents' house. Paul had brought some Cubans to share. Rich and Paul and I were smoking one; Wendy and Kathy were not; Catherine was. Mom and Dad were inside. Actually, maybe Wendy and Kathy were too.
Mom came out to say something. Before she did, though, she took my cigar in a don't-mind-if-I-do sort of way, and took a puff, gave an evaluative nod, said, "Mm, nice," and then went on with whatever she was saying. Mom often clucks about our cigar smoking, so it was unusual to see her do that; more amusing was the boys' reaction, ranging from delighted surprise to the Are You Crazy stare.
Every once in a while, you get to see your parents when they were young. That evening, we caught a glimpse of the Southern belle, innocent but not naïve, in the world but not of it, who made 1957 such a fun year in Austin, raising some hipster's eyebrows at a horn-rimmed shindig.
Mom came out to say something. Before she did, though, she took my cigar in a don't-mind-if-I-do sort of way, and took a puff, gave an evaluative nod, said, "Mm, nice," and then went on with whatever she was saying. Mom often clucks about our cigar smoking, so it was unusual to see her do that; more amusing was the boys' reaction, ranging from delighted surprise to the Are You Crazy stare.
Every once in a while, you get to see your parents when they were young. That evening, we caught a glimpse of the Southern belle, innocent but not naïve, in the world but not of it, who made 1957 such a fun year in Austin, raising some hipster's eyebrows at a horn-rimmed shindig.
Comments