My mother lives in a neighboring state so I don't get to see her as often as I would like. But she calls me, and I call her, and for some reason we both can talk on the phone for longer than we would for any other person.
This morning my phone rang. I recognized my mother's special ringtone, so I drug myself half out of sleep and answered it. I was greeted with, "Sorry to wake you up, but I'm at Starbuck's. What should I order? What was that thing you gave me to try last time?" My mother can never remember what to order. My first question: "Hot or cold?" Hot. That narrows it down a bit.
So I start racking my brain for hot drinks I normally drink at Starbuck's. Chai, and . . . chai. She didn't like my chai. That's not it. Probably something my husband drinks that I suggested knowing she would like. Latte or mocha? I suggest both. First mocha. "I don't see that on the menu," she says. "It would be under cafe mocha," says my sleepy brain. "Oh, there it is. Was that what it was?" "Maybe a caramel latte?" I reply. "I don't see that on the menu either."
Then I hear the voice of her friend calling out to the drive thru speaker, "Do you make caramel lattes?" I cannot hear the answer, but I know it already. My mother quickly orders a tall, thanks me, and lets me go back to sleep.
I love my mother. And I love that she asks me for help with Starbucks.
And no, she's not old. She's only 47.
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