My mother has always prefaced family moment to me with “Now, you cannot talk about this on stage.” She really did snatch all the good material right out from under me. As I was began brain vomit all the pent up stories I wanted to share at the mic, I had to remember which list it was on. The naughty list or the nice list?
No way was I allowed to share the story about mom throwing ice out of her drink at dad running naked down the hallway. Not one person will ever know that mom preferred to go commando than wear the leopard print with hot pink lace boy shorts I loaned her when she forgot to pack any. It was just to the store though….she would never make it the whole trip without white cotton. And the picture book I drew about all the people at the last family reunion will never see the outside of the safe.
My mother has also kept my secrets. Like the time I gave up and shit myself on my way home from my first week working at the movie theater. Apparently there is a limit to how much buttered popcorn you should eat during your shift. She never did show the pictures she found of the party we threw to dad. And she locked up the picture book I made so no one in the family would get their feelings hurt by my sick sense of humor.
So I won’t talk about the fight my sister and I had that involved a bruised forehead and broken skin on a breast. I won’t tell anyone about the digested jewelry, building permits or other “colorful” family members……promise.