My Morbidly Obese Mom
Dec 07
In October I visited Michigan and saw my mom for the first time in a couple years. She kept threatening to visit Seattle but one thing after another came up and postponed her trip, so it was up to me to fly over to the mitten and see how my lil’ Korean mom was doing. One of my mom’s friends very graciously allowed me and Jason to use a spare condo she owned in Rochester Hills so we’d be about equal distance to my brother’s place and my mom’ s place instead of having to stay at one person’s house and make a huge trek to the other’s. We left Chicago at around 1 pm, taking a rickety-ass plane that Jason was too tall for. One hour and one time change later, we arrived to gloriously awful Detroit weather. While taking a shuttle ride to the Enterprise lot, my phone rang. Me: “Hello?” Mom: “Where are you.” (It was more of a statement than a question.) Me: “I’m on a shuttle bus heading to pick up our rental car.” Mom: “Oh, okay. Weather really bad! You be careful.” Me: “I will.” Mom: “You know how to get to apaht-ment?” Me: “Yeah, I can just use my phone.” Mom: “Is really easy.” She started rattling off about 28 steps’ worth of directions. My mom does this all the time–she’ll give me step-by-step directions for something, whether it’s to a destination or for a recipe, without warning as I’m sitting there with no pen or paper, wondering if she just expects me to commit it all to memory. She repeats the lengthy directions again for good measure. I thanked her to be polite and said we’d see her in a little bit. Fifteen minutes later, as I was driving on the freeway slowly making my way to Rochester, my phone rang again. Me: “Hello?” Mom: “Where are you.” Me: “I’m still on the freeway, it’s only been like 15 minutes.” Mom: “Okay…call when you get off freeway and I’ll get the mandu started. I don’t want to cook too soon!” This cycle repeated a couple more times: Mom would wait roughly five minutes before calling me and asking where I was, then...
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