A few months ago, my mother asked me to play wingman at another predictably awkward event hosted by some sisterhood of Southerners. There was singing and secrecy and there were sashes. They all wore white. So did I. I didn't mean to; no one told me otherwise.
This was the day I met the president.
I am not the star-struck type -- New York can jade a kid quick -- yet I literally had to be tugged toward this woman. Maybe it was because she’s my mom's boss, or because we've got that German blood, or because I knew she’d ask me why I’d waited a year and a half to lock eyes with her.
The truth is this: that all that time, all I'd ever thought was “I'm not worthy.” No fancy PhD, famous husband, fantastic job. Just me, standing there, tongue-tied, trying not to ruin the family name.
I refuse to go to any more of these things. My mom's just going to have to hire a date like the rest of us.
This was the day I met the president.
I am not the star-struck type -- New York can jade a kid quick -- yet I literally had to be tugged toward this woman. Maybe it was because she’s my mom's boss, or because we've got that German blood, or because I knew she’d ask me why I’d waited a year and a half to lock eyes with her.
The truth is this: that all that time, all I'd ever thought was “I'm not worthy.” No fancy PhD, famous husband, fantastic job. Just me, standing there, tongue-tied, trying not to ruin the family name.
I refuse to go to any more of these things. My mom's just going to have to hire a date like the rest of us.
2 comments:
you are worthy simply because you are Avril Perry <3
:) Thanks T. I still think she could see into my soul, though.
Post a Comment