DNA

My sister is throwing a family reunion this summer. There's a reason why I live waaay over here on the other coast. There's a reason why four or five years lapse between my visits. There's a reason why I let my phone roll over to voice mail when they call, and why ten months pass before I respond to messages or emails. But my sister gave me the pouty face, so I caved. I should have told her to keep that our little secret, because Mom just called.

Mom: We've decided to hire a professional photographer for the reunion.

Me: *groan*

Mom: I hope that your hair won't be purple this time.

Me: Actually, I've gone completely gray since you last saw me. I kind of like it. (note: my hair is the same mud brown it's always been, except for when it was purple, or the time it was red, and the year I embraced black. But she's so damn easy to tweak that I can't resist.)

Mom: *long sigh* I don't think that's funny.

The list of things Mom doesn't find funny is endless. Come to think of it, I don't think anything amuses her.

Mom: Please tell me you'll color your hair.

Me: Just not purple, right?

Mom: A natural color. (Experience has taught her a lot about how I interpret her words.)

Me: Cool. Pink is found in nature, right?

Mom: *longer sigh* I suppose we can pay the photographer to fix you in the pictures, like we always have to.

Ah- the queen of the parting shot. Truly a master. And she wonders why I never call.