I apologize to anyone who is here looking for discussion on being gay and Mormon. My last blog post spread much more than I ever expected and that might be what has brought you to this usually rather mundane blog. While I occasionally write serious posts, most of my posts are just about funny things that happen to me and I write them for my friends. You can find my posts about being gay here, here, here, and here. This post, like most of the things going on in my life, has nothing to do with being gay.
So back to the status quo.
Anyone who knows my mother would tell you that she's an angel. But she also has quite the knack for forgetting things. Last summer when I was in Washington visiting my family I went to the mall with her and my sister. We stopped by the GAP for a few minutes and I found a hoodie that I really liked (I have a thing for hoodies). I considered buying it, but not only was it summer, but I would soon be heading back to Arizona where summer goes on forever so my sensible side came out and I decided not to buy it. However, my mom had recently learned something that rich parents have known for decades--buying your kids things makes them happy. She said, "How about I buy it for you and then give it to you for Christmas?" I accepted and the hoodie was purchased and stowed in a closet.
In November my mom called to discuss what I wanted for Christmas. I told her that she had already bought me a hoodie. She had no recollection of the incident. She then tore the house apart looking for the elusive hoodie, but it was nowhere to be found. She was incredibly apologetic and offered to buy me a replacement hoodie, but so much time had passed that I didn't even remember what it had looked like so told her to stop looking for it. I got a Camelbak for Christmas instead. A few months after Christmas she randomly found the hoodie hidden in her closet. My mom just gave me the hoodie last week, one year after she bought it.
|My "new" hoodie a year after my mom bought it
Last Tuesday I was flying from Tucson to Seattle. During my three hour layover in San Diego I was glued to my phone responding to messages about my latest blog post. Most of my blog posts get fewer than 200 hits so I wasn't expecting such an immediate response. Because my eyes were so locked to my screen I boarded my plane without reading any signs or hearing any announcements (I know, I'm such a millenial).
I thought my flight was a direct flight to Seattle, but after we'd been in the air for about an hour the pilot announced that we were starting our descent. I looked out the window and I didn't see the verdant forests of western Washington below and the trip hadn't seemed nearly long enough. A flight attendant walked by me just then so I said, "Excuse me, where is this plane going?" She gave me a rather quizzical look that seemed to say, "How could you not know where the plane you're on is going especially since you had the nerve the ask for a whole can of cranapple juice earlier?" She smiled and said, "We're landing in Oakland." She started to walk away and I stopped her again, "Um, is it going to Seattle next?" She once again looked surprised to be answering a question that I should have already known the answer to and said yes.
When I landed in Oakland I called my parents. They had told me that they were going to take me out to dinner, but that seemed like a hassle so I told my mom that she could just bring me something simple from home like fruit or a sandwich. She replied, "Well, umm, okay... That might be hard to do." I asked why and then I heard my dad say in the background, "Just tell him." My flight was scheduled to land in Seattle at 9:20pm. I had sent my itinerary to my parents weeks before so they should've known when I was arriving. But for some reason they thought I was getting in at 5:00pm. Trying to beat the traffic through Seattle they left really early and had gotten to the airport before 4:00. My mom admitted, "We're already at the airport."
To add insult to injury my flight arrived to Seattle about 20 minutes late. As soon as I saw my parents I apologized that they had had to wait for me at the airport for so long. They didn't want me to feel bad so they just smiled and laughed it off. My dad did say, however, "I thought it was so weird that you were arriving at 5:00 because that's when traffic is the worst and you always plan your flights so we won't have to deal with traffic." It's true, that's exactly what I do. I'm a pretty considerate son.
I offered to pay for my parents' parking at the airport, but they wouldn't hear of it. The charge for parking at the Sea-Tac airport for 6 1/2 hours: $21.00. That's the price of forgetting.