My Mother

I have a friend. She likes to write, so much that she actually published two books. This friend also likes clothes and accessories. She likes to get my advice on what to wear, and sometimes we spend long hours together just talking about whatever we fancy. 

Yes, this friend is my mother. 

My mother is my friend. I fight with her occasionally, and she smiles and calls me a viperlette. (My older sister is a full-grown viper) She asks for my help on which minimal changes to make to her website, and I sigh and make the choice with her. She is quite......well, the only way to describe her would be astounding. Her personality is one that jumps out at you. She is outgoing, and loves to rant about different problems in this world. She has no difficulty calling people to tell them what she thinks of them -- for example, she once called up my elementary school principal to tell her opinion on the school's rigid disciplinary program. She gets frazzled about what she is going to wear to "galas" where she thinks she is the most insignificant person there, or what she is going to talk about on an interview with the feared "Jamaica Kincaid." She talks about her friend Mary the Tailor, to whom she takes her clothes to to be mended and then sits for an hour chatting with. She is a person I am influenced by and I look up to. Most might pair the name Ru Freeman with an elegant lady on the back of a book jacket. However, what comes to mind to me is more like a small person in a Bread Loaf sweatshirt, sitting at her desk in front of her laptop, forever my mother. Forever my friend.