Tag: writer

            Many moons have passed since last I wrote on my own blog. You may notice I started to post TikTok videos on here. Now, while that is all good fun, I must remain true to my roots, which means more stories! Thank you for your patience and without further ado…

            My mother noticed my string of stories a while ago. Giggling at how my brother and cousin received their titles in my phone. However, she soon came to the realization she might be next. I brushed it off at the time saying I was absorbed in writing and marketing at the moment…

            So, my family loves to play games. The favorite of my late grandfather were card games. At least once a week, we’d come together to go a few rounds. One such evening we were gathered around. Smiling and enjoying one’s company until we heard that familiar tone from my grandmother. She’d come up with a new task to add to the never-ending list of hers. Now, try to understand my mom worked full to overtime in a sucky company as the head of a department. Only keeping the job to support not only us, but our grandparents who lived with us. As it was, we took care of some of their basic needs to run a home. Meaning stuff like moving pellets, mowing the yard, shoveling driveway, etc. The usual around the house stuff which those in older years couldn’t do well anymore. This gave very little time for my mother to find rest.

            Now, my mother possesses this ability to be unbelievably kind and professional to everyone she meets. This follows through with her conversations with people who might not deserve it. This is an amazing part of her personality although can hinder her own happiness, but I digress. However, there is a crack in this armor of hers. When she is very annoyed or upset, her eyes will roll.

            The biggest of these occurred at the very moment my grandmother requested her ridiculous task. (What this was I couldn’t tell you. Vaguely, I’d say moving everything in and out of several closets to organize and clean them during the work week.) Wind came off those eyes from the speed.

My grandmother responded thusly, “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Responded my mother.

With a huff, she shot back, “Roll your eyes. It’s very annoying.”

My mother took a moment. Looking around the room with a face like a child found with a hand in the cookie jar.

“… You can see that?”

Silence fell over that room so quick before laughter broke it. We all let her know between giggles the important information.

Her only response was, “Oh.” Before settling back down to play the game.

This moment of levity seemed to settle my grandmother down, and consequently made her forget about the little task.

Thus, my mother was known as The Eye Roller.