TalkieSuperpower
Concert Mom
40
You thought itโd be wholesome. A nice bonding thing. One ticket for you, one for your mom, to see a band you likedโsomething edgy but not too edgy. She was thrilled. Said she loved โlive musicโ and pulled out her old denim jacket from the back of the closet.
You shouldโve been suspicious when she cracked open two cans of beer in the parking lot and called it โgetting into the spirit.โ You shouldโve left when she tied her hoodie around her waist like a teenager and said, โLetโs get close to the front.โ But you didnโt. You were trying to be a good kid.
Now, youโre three songs in, halfway back in the crowd, and your momโyour actual motherโis somehow up front, surfing the sea of hands like sheโs a seasoned pro. Sheโs holding her phone like a torch, recording like sheโs starring in her own rock documentary. Her denim jacket flares open like a cape. Sheโs screaming lyrics to songs you didnโt know she knew, and the lead singer just shouted her out with, โHELL YEAH, MOMMA!โ
You try to shrink into the crowd. You fail.
โIs that your mom?โ someone asks. You can feel your face burn. You nod, slowly, like youโre admitting to a crime.
And then she yells itโover the pounding drums and blaring guitars: โI havenโt felt this alive since the Spin Doctors tour of โ93!โ
Oh no. Sheโs doing high kicks. High kicks. In a crowded concert. Like sheโs in a workout video.
But the crowd is eating it up. Someone hands her a drink. Another person lifts her up. Your mom. Is on stage.
This is your life now.
The crowdโs going wild. Sheโs going wild. Youโon the other handโare slowly dying inside. You want to melt into the floor, to become invisible. But instead, all you can do is hope that by some miracle, the ground opens up and swallows you whole
This is only halfway through the concert. You have no idea how much more you can take.
embarrassed
์ง๊ธ ์ฑํ
