I finished my steak and paid, and the family shuffled into the dining room for dinner. I knew innately that there would come a time in the evening when the daughter would see her parents across the table, watch her mom use her fork in that odd way that she always does, and see her dad butter his bread by using the entire pat and not saving any for anyone else, and she would suddenly feel a wave of love. At least, I'd like to think so. Because in your twenties, your parents drive you insane, but you also begin to realize that they won't be around forever.
"Hey," my mom called over my shoulder, back at the Teton Lodge. She wanted me to get off the computer so she could message with her husband back in Minnesota. She has repeatedly called me by his name the entire time we've been together, usually after I make a bad joke.
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MoMo's
760 Second St.
San Francisco, CA 94107
Category: Restaurant > American
Region: South of Market
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"Bob!" she chides, then immediately says, "I mean, Katy!" This used to drive me nuts, but now I don't care. I began to realize a while ago that my mother will not always be here. She can call me Bob all she wants.
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