And then your mom gets curious

It’s a subtle curiosity. If you weren’t listening closely enough to the in-between meaning of the conversation you might miss it’s elegance. Like a hummingbird drifting toward a flower, you blink, the wind whirls, and there, it was just there, but it’s gone. A faint curiosity continually growing until you finally give in and tell her details. Not just yet, though, I’m not ready for that.

[Phone rings.]

Me: Yea?

Mom: Grandpa just called, said he got an invitation to the wedding too, but he can’t go, will you buy a gift for him off the online registry?

Me: Now? Can it wait, I’m working.

Mom: Yea, do it whenever it’s convenient, I just didn’t want to forget.

Me: Ok, I’ll do it.

Mom: one more thing. We got an invitation from the synagogue, for a concert on Sunday afternoon…

Me: Ok.

Mom: It’s going to be like Russian folk music with the Cantor singing, it might be nice, do you want to go with me and Dad and grandma? It’s Sunday at 4pm

[quickly check my mental calendar]

Me: Um, yea sure, I’ll go.

Mom: Alright…anyone you want to bring?

Me: Um, no.

Mom: Ok, I’ll just buy tickets for the 4 of us.

And there it was, did you see it? You almost missed it, right? Subtle, but palpable.