Thursday, July 19, 2012

one tough mother

Yes, I dug her sandals, the B&W tats, the rolled jeans, but I also value my front teeth. Something about the way she was standing and lighting up a smoke in a whoop-ass make-my-day kind of way intimidated me so, like a cringeing vermin, I took this unauthorized photo and was on my creepy way. But not before making the startling connection that her mega-satchel was in fact a diaper bag and the mini-child dancing in the street was in her tender care.  I sense she is not up nights poring over Mothering magazine and teaching her infant sign language, and I could hug her for that.  Virtual hug. And even then, she would have kicked my judgmental ass.

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