Weekends with Mom

A couple years ago, at the height of recession,
Mom and I went to one of the last standing Linens 'n' Things.
I can't remember much of what was left,
or even what she bought.
All I remember is following her
and thinking to myself
that if I were an adult
with my own money,
I'd take a couple of the inventory shelves home with me.
They could be useful.

It's not that much different from following her around Bed, Bath and Beyond.
A million jokes (or at least two) have been made about the meaning of "Beyond";
I seriously just think it's a general home appliance thing.
But the thing I remember best from recent times
is standing by the CD stand
as she looks at curtains nearby
and I listen to my favorite of the ambient samples
as many times as I can
before she calls me away.

We go to Panera Bread for lunch.
I enjoy my sandwich.
I sip my chicken noodle soup.
I rip into my baguette.
I chug a cup or two of Mountain Dew,
in my late-teenage years fashion.

We occasionally go to Ross,
often right after a movie
that either we both loved
or I liked and she didn't care much for.
I lament the Goodwill-like atmosphere,
but at least there's furniture in the back corner to wait on
and an occasionally genuinely interesting paperweight.

Then we go to Target,
and I am free to roam.
I don't know where she goes
when I look over the video game inventory,
occasionally picking up hot titles
and listing down cool ones to look into.
I parse a PC copy of The Orange Box.
I wonder about my lack of practice in Team Fortress 2
and the impending games on Saturday—

Wait a second.
That's this weekend.
I'm thinking too far ahead, into college.
I'm trying to talk about high school.
No, really.

Nowadays, if I go home,
I'm lucky if we get to go to Belk
and she says she'll come back during the week.
Sure, that's how I got my new favorite coat,
but I'm not always there anymore
to check if the pants fit
or, passing by boxes of pantiliners back at Target,
to be reminded that I need some
at the most convenient time,
or to be able to explain
the origin
of the meme depicted on that one shirt.