This may not be my most embarrassing moment. Those I choose to keep to myself...thank you very much!
This is, however the FIRST embarrassing moment I remember. I was only about six years old, but I remember it like it was yesterday.
Before turning into a brooding, smart-alec teenager and well before Mom turned into the mean, "know-nothing" MOTHER of a brooding, smart-alec teenager, I wanted to please her with something special.
The most special thing I found that spring day was in our neighbor's tulip bed. Gorgeous blooms! Vibrant reds, warm yellows, vivid violets. They captivated my young eyes.
What better gift to show my mom how much I loved her! I'm not sure I picked every single flower, but I came close.
Now, to the embarrassing part. Instead of the anticipated smile of appreciation, all I remember is the look of horror on my mother's face right before she grabbed my hand and marched me up the street to apologize.
Poor Mrs. Boaz was so nice, and tried to tell Mom that it was okay. "No harm done." But even a six-year-old could see the pain on her face having lost an entire bed of beauty she'd nurtured for years.
I never pass a bed of tulips that I don't think of that day.
(Admit it. Wasn't that story better than the one about blowing milk out my nose in the lunch room...all over my new 7th grade "love," Roger?)
Mary Cunningham
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