Treat yo mama right
Last Friday after work I made the five and a half hour drive from North Carolina to Atlanta for a surprise visit to my mom for the Mother's Day weekend. My pops and my siblings managed to keep my trip secret, though my father did come dangerously close to revealing my plans. (Daddy on the phone with my mom in the room: "So Quint, what time are you getting in on Friday?...Uhhh, I mean what time are you getting in next Friday?) But for the most part, all went according to plan.
My folks live in the suburbs southeast of Atlanta in a neighborhood where modest homes are surrounded by large wooded lots. There are no street lights. It's quiet. Without the moonlight, the night is black and still. I arrived to an empty house a little after 10:00 Friday night. When I drove up the long driveway and saw that none of the family cars were there, I knew that I had a least a few minutes to hatch a little scheme.
I backed out of the driveway and drove around the corner, my headlights catching the glimmering eyes of some darting animal. I parked my car just beyond the mini-forest that separates my parents' house from the adjacent street. No one would spot the black car with its dark tinted windows in the dead of the night. Whether or not someone would spot me was a different story. There are no sidewalks in the neighborhood and pedestrians are rare, especially after sunset. So I ran the quarter-mile back to my house hoping no one would see me, a black man with a duffle bag cutting through the darkness.
When I got home I caught my breath and waited for the action. I sat in the room closest to the driveway so that I could hear or see anyone coming home. After a few minutes, the headlights of my mom's truck pierced the blinds. I crawled into a crouching position behind a door. All the lights in the house were off.
I heard the key turn and the door creak open. Both of my parents walked in, my father first. They were talking about the movie they'd just seen, Mission Impossible III, I think. They dropped their keys and kicked off their shoes.
My father walked into the living room and past my hiding spot. He saw me and we both smiled. "We're gonna get you good this time, Mama," I thought. "Real good." I choked a laugh and then heard her approaching.
I saw her just before she saw me. I jumped out and hollered like I didn't have no damn sense. My mom screamed for about three seconds, took a quick breath, and then screamed again, the second one short and sharp. Her eyes were wide and her lips quivered. I doubled over in laughter.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mama!"
"Quint! Where'd you come from? Don't do that!"
"Ahhhh, got ya good that time, Mama." I laughed for the next twenty minutes.
My folks live in the suburbs southeast of Atlanta in a neighborhood where modest homes are surrounded by large wooded lots. There are no street lights. It's quiet. Without the moonlight, the night is black and still. I arrived to an empty house a little after 10:00 Friday night. When I drove up the long driveway and saw that none of the family cars were there, I knew that I had a least a few minutes to hatch a little scheme.
I backed out of the driveway and drove around the corner, my headlights catching the glimmering eyes of some darting animal. I parked my car just beyond the mini-forest that separates my parents' house from the adjacent street. No one would spot the black car with its dark tinted windows in the dead of the night. Whether or not someone would spot me was a different story. There are no sidewalks in the neighborhood and pedestrians are rare, especially after sunset. So I ran the quarter-mile back to my house hoping no one would see me, a black man with a duffle bag cutting through the darkness.
When I got home I caught my breath and waited for the action. I sat in the room closest to the driveway so that I could hear or see anyone coming home. After a few minutes, the headlights of my mom's truck pierced the blinds. I crawled into a crouching position behind a door. All the lights in the house were off.
I heard the key turn and the door creak open. Both of my parents walked in, my father first. They were talking about the movie they'd just seen, Mission Impossible III, I think. They dropped their keys and kicked off their shoes.
My father walked into the living room and past my hiding spot. He saw me and we both smiled. "We're gonna get you good this time, Mama," I thought. "Real good." I choked a laugh and then heard her approaching.
I saw her just before she saw me. I jumped out and hollered like I didn't have no damn sense. My mom screamed for about three seconds, took a quick breath, and then screamed again, the second one short and sharp. Her eyes were wide and her lips quivered. I doubled over in laughter.
"Happy Mother's Day, Mama!"
"Quint! Where'd you come from? Don't do that!"
"Ahhhh, got ya good that time, Mama." I laughed for the next twenty minutes.