Funny, how things work. I texted my daughter about the L.A. earthquake today.
“Did you feel it?”
Of course, she does live in San Francisco. I do know they aren’t close, but we’re from Texas and she doesn’t know what to do in one, so yes I worry. She said she shared the text with the office staff and they all laughed. While I was talking with her, hearing about my humiliation, my mom called. Her message said she had received a call for the parents of my son. After she told them they had the wrong number and hung up, she worried. Worried that something was terribly wrong. She called me to check on him.
“Is he okay? Are you sure?”
“Yes mom, he’s right here. I just stuffed him meatballs and put gas in his car. He’s more than fine.”
I guess once a mom, always a mom. My kids are 16 and 23 and I’ll be worrying for a very long time. My mom still worries about me and I’m old enough to be a grandma (not that I want to be one, yet). Maybe it’s one of the ways we show our love.