apparently some guy named mark was trying to tell my mom he needed to speak with my dad about any financial transactions my mom was making because he was the man of the house and she did not take kindly to his implying that my dad was the primary breadwinner/person in charge in our family so
Pros of wearing all black: looks so badass
Cons: everyone knows I had powdered donuts
This is how my mother wanted to be remembered. My memory of her is… a little bit different. I’m sure everyone remembers their own version of her. Versions I wouldn’t even recognize. It’s all that’s really left of someone when they’re gone. But that’s the tricky thing. Nobody’s memory is perfect or complete. We jumble things up. We lose track of time. We are in one place and another. And it all feels like one long, inescapable moment. It’s just like my mother used to say:
The carousel never stops turning.
(Source: kevinmckidd, via kevinmckidd)