Jessica Mollo
Bio
Writer of film, TV, podcasts, poetry, prose. Graduate of USC. BFA in screenwriting. Winner of the Humanitas New Voices Award. Just finished my first novel. My Chihuahua is my spirit animal. I write to impact and love a creative challenge.
Stories (3/0)
Canine Culture
The first thing I ever noticed about Sage was her underbite—proud, prominent, perpetual. Second was her set of beautiful, bulging eyes the color of a caramel blondie or the Sahara Desert at sunrise. On a quiet workday in April, as I had been searching through numerous pictures of adoptable dogs on a website for a West L.A. animal rescue, I immediately stopped scrolling when I caught sight of the seven-pound pup called “Eggs” (which I later learned was in theme with the approaching Easter holiday). I proceeded to watch her adoption video, which really should have been called “audition video” since she was a class act—an amalgam of Gloria Swanson—a spritely, dramatic dame ready for her closeup, Amy Poehler—a comedy-savvy firecracker, and Audrey Hepburn—a wise and loving little treasure. “Eggs” wiggled with gusto and urgency in the arms of the volunteer holding her and effortlessly wagged that six-inch tail of hers. As the camera went into a close-up, zeroing in on that tail, I saw a tiny patch of white fur on the tip that looked like a speck of cream amidst her pumpkin spice latte-colored coat. That was it. I was done searching. I had to meet “Eggs”—and only “Eggs.” That evening after work, I drove as fast as L.A. traffic would let me to the animal rescue, where I met the ball of curious, unbridled energy, renamed her “Sage” (as I sensed her unspoken wisdom would somehow change my life), and walked out the door with her in under an hour. When I brought her home to my studio apartment, she excitedly ran around in circles as if to scream: “I’m free!” She surely knew that, as well as the fact that she was finally and irrevocably home.
By Jessica Mollo3 years ago in Petlife
Love, Elevated
My mother is like an electron – constantly vibrating at a frequency much higher than most people – even at 70 years old! Retirement hasn’t slowed her down much. She recently relayed to me that her FitBit informed her that she has walked the 5,000-mile length of Africa. Oddly enough, Africa is next on her list for a travel adventure. She’s had many – and has taken me along for most of them. Since I can remember, we have been traveling together, nationally and internationally. She travels well, rarely gets tired or has any complaints. She is a master at adapting to new situations and can find the humor in anything – which is what makes her such a survivor. As a single mom since I was two years old, her electric energy has helped her balance all the demands of being a single parent. While I was growing up, she steadily worked three jobs simultaneously. High school English teacher. Private tutor. SAT Prep Instructor. While getting her Masters in English, she attended night classes on top of her day job. When she couldn’t find a babysitter, she’d bring me to her classes where her kind instructor would allow me to sit quietly in the back to read and color. When I would need a change of scenery, I’d traipse to the vending machines for an exciting game of choosing the snack with the highest salt or sugar content. Sometimes it was Fritos. Sometimes it was Sour Patch Kids. My mom still holds onto threads of guilt for bringing me to her night classes, alluding to the fact that I’d sometimes fall asleep in the back of the room – and memories of me slumped over on the desk (with or without drool, depending on the day) was one of the pivotal reasons she later decided to forego completing a PhD program at that stage in her life. She wasn’t willing to sacrifice my childhood for an intense program that would have her busier than she already was.
By Jessica Mollo3 years ago in Families
