Ruby Mondays

“AAAAAAAHHHHH MAAAAN!!!” I yawn waking myself up from a two minute nap. The summer is almost over and I’ve spent most of it staying up all night and sleeping through the better part of the day time. But now, school is almost back in session and I could not be more worried. This year is the biggest year of my school life. It’s my senior year and boy do I have a lot to worry about.

First off, I gotta worry about my senior project. Thanks to Ms. Pidgeon’s advice I’ve decided that I’m gonna do it on censorship in music, but deciding it is only the beginning. I gotta come up with a career prospectus and then write a million page paper with a billion sources sited. I just remembered that I have to do community service as part of the project. Then there’s that dreadful day called prom and then I gotta worry about, dare I say it? College. This is too much I need to go outside and get some air.

So I leave me bedroom and stroll the quiet dark halls of this apartment waiting for the dark gloomy clouds to hit nightfall so I can finally go to sleep and put day and night back in sync. My pops is asleep in his room, he’s a trucker so his days and nights will always be all over the place. As I put my shoes on and head out the front door I look outside and see something I haven’t seen in years. The figure is all too familiar. It’s a green Jeep Cherokee and it belongs to my mother, Ruby Lee Spencer. She has the driver seat window rolled down with her arm hanging out the window with her vibrant smile and short hair on full display.

“Hey Joe!” She calls out in a soft, yet gleeful tone. “Mama!?” I call back in surprise. I mean, we haven’t spoken in so long, so I’m genuinely confused as to why she’s here. “Come on and hop in, baby. We’re goin’ for a little ride.” She tells me. “Uh, what are you doin here, mom? And where are we going?” I ask out of pure curiosity. “We’re just gonna take one of our famous road trips like we used to go on when a my babies used to live with me. Now hurry up, Monkeyfeet. The meter is running.”

So I hop in this world famous jeep that my mother has had since I was like 8 years old. The funny thing is I’m not gonna tell my dad I’m leaving. My guess is he probably already knows I’m gone. I have a feeling that he was secretly in on this little visit. When I get in the car my mother’s famous perfume hits my nose and now I’m suddenly back in 1999. She cranks up the car, departs from my complex and the conversation begins.

“So how has my baby been?” She asks cheerfully. “Well mom, senior year starts in less than a month and I’m very stressed. By this time we’re cruising through the country roads, one of her favorite areas to drive in. “Why would you be stressed?” She asked. “You are smart, blessed and have come a long way. Your mama didn’t raise no fool and I didn’t raise a quitter.” Those words suddenly send some unintended determination coursing through my veins. “It’s not that I can’t do it.. I’m just so stressed worrying about it.”

Now her demeanor turns serious. Much like it did when I was a kid. “What did I always tell you to do when times got rough?” “You always told me to stay in prayer, to give everything to the lord and he will fix it.” “That’s right, so what are you gonna do every morning and night?” I pause before I give the obvious answer that she’s looking for. “I say a prayer to make sure all is well.” I reply gently. My mother looks over at me with a smile of reassurance. By this time we’ve been riding around for some time and before I know it, we’re back at the lot of my apartment complex.

“Alright Monkeyfeet, I’ll be back to see you soon.” Before I get out she gives me a big hug that really warms my heart and then she hands me something in a bag. “What’s this?” I ask curiously. “It’s Pepsi and sunflower seeds.” She responds. “You always saw me eating them while I read and now you can eat them while you study.” I hate to admit it, but this really puts a smile on my face. “Thanks mama, I promise to stay in prayer and do my best.”

“I know you will. I love you, Monkeyfeet.” “I love you too, mama.”

~This short story is dedicated to my mother. She died on this day 16 years ago. I never had a chance to talk to her one last time and this story is how I’d like to imagine our last talk could’ve went had she lived past this day.