My mother with me, age less than 2

My mother is “doing drama” today; my sister is to blame.  Whining as Mother has for many a week now about her turtle-slow desktop computer, I fear the jangling every telephone call brings.

Mother wants a laptop I have…Mother wants my Sacred Space.

As a writer and photographer, I don’t trust computers much.  As such, I have coveted my Dell:  it is the one, I muse, that is “safe enough”.

My Darling precious workhorse Dell; Mother wants me to give it up.  Comingling, though, in its’ circuitry are remnants of my life….Delicate, holy, in flux.

My Toshiba, you see, is my Communications Center;  that is where I exchange stuff.  My webpage, my presence on the Internet is carefully hubbed in it’s bowels.  Instant messenger programs, emails and conference call recordings with which I keep up….All that I trade with the world has a constant home on my Toshiba….
My mother thinks the Toshiba is enough….and, flushed with embarrassment, it’s simply NOT.

The Dell she emotionally, manipulatively wants holds the ransom to my heart..  Photographs and artwork done by my daughters….songs we sang at the top of our lungs.  Pictures chronicling, before and after the shape, size and weight of my breasts and their reduction….still, stunningly pendulous and soft…

and the X-rated photographs revealing my fertility doll-like form are in the Dell laptop, entombed…but not lost.

As I feel ashamed of coveting a bunch of microchips, images of other things flash before me…

I know there are OTHER THINGS to my Mother I won’t give up.

Mommy Mine won’t get my 8 inch skillet, the one I made Chardonnay-flavored omelettes for lunch….My Mother won’t get one of the three identical satin bras, the ones I fancy wearing in the dark.  These, I keep for warm summer nights when the smell of hot sex love is enough.

I’ll not pass on my manatee-like canine;  Stellas’ sensuous lounging is not sloth.  Nor will I share my favorite finger now toenail polish;  some things are left in hopes of a mans’ touch.

My Mother, like toddler, who grasps a hand tight-fisted around a crayon will have to endure the seduction of the secret value and esteem I give to these things, and that wanted laptop.

It is enough, as the sun sets today, to know how much I love this stuff.