The Inertia Chronicles

This is my mom, Betty.  I've know her for 43 years now. Of course when we first met, I couldn't walk, talk, eat on my own or anything else other than scream for her when I wanted something. Regardless of my selfish behavior, she was always there for me from the start. She wiped my nose and my butt all while thinking I was the cutest thing on the earth and she even taught me how to drink... She devoted her life to me and to this day, she still talks me up and never, and I mean never, would say one disrespectful thing about me. This means that it is with careful consideration that I start this blog post series, My Mother My Roommate. In 2009, a year after my father passed away, it was decided that it was time for Mom to sell her Arlington, Virginia house which she had shared with my father since 1962. The House, The Mexican Restaurant and "New" Arlington Mom was struggling with all of the responsibilities of dealing with a household on her own. I, being

Every time Inertia dusted off the large chunk of rose quartz she’d purchased ten years ago in Richmond, Virginia’s Carytown at Kewel Jewels gift shop, it meant only one thing, she was in emotional turmoil. She clung to the pink Matterhorn-shaped rock for comfort whenever she was feeling lonely and lost, which was happening a lot these days. She tried to pass the blame for her anxieties off on the fact that she was keeping long hours at work. As much as she hated to admit it, after seven years on the job, the traveling was getting to her. The senior flight attendants had tried to warn her that she was signing up for too many shifts and would quickly burn out, but Inertia never listened to anyone.      On every trip of serving drinks and demonstrating the proper evacuation procedures, she always made sure that each passenger seated in an emergency exit row felt they were there because of divine selection. Her enthusiasm, attention to detail and generally pleasant demeanor had earned h