weapons Jack can be a great weapon at partner, Shadow. It to get you out of and myself pinned people and can come them all down. Used on how filled is, so make sure it. A full one can shadow can also do believe weapons for
the game are disi maneuvers Jack always good eye makes another perk kill them looks so man shield would if only it worked. yet I still lose life of enemies in an at without getting you're scurrying health.
in action game. If
don't take guff from
in I would recom-
me.
—Chris Moore
The day after Christmas 2003 my parents moved to Allentown, Pa. It was the worst present anyone could have asked for. Seriously, it's like 1,200 miles from here. Before they left, we spent Christmas day in a hotel room and ate Christmas dinner at the Great Wolf Lodge because our cute gray house with the twisty staircase in Kansas City, Kan., had already been sold. After they left, my mom would call me once a week, just to check in. We'd talk about normal mother-daughter stuff such as my job and school, Steadily, our conversations got longer. Then we started talking more often, we'd trade off calling each other a few days a week. Now I'm to the point where I talk to her every day, without fail. We write letters and send each other packages filled with candy and odd little trinkets.
I have always gotten along with my mom. I honestly cannot remember fighting with her about anything. I can't even remember her yelling at me. When I pierced my lip and then my septum, she
didn't love it, but she didn't get mad at me either. She shook her head and we moved on. Every time I go home with a new tattoo she lifts up the back of her shirt, grins and says, "I'm going to get a lower back tattoo, right here." I know she never will, but I always encourage her. She was always the "cool mom." In elementary school everyone wanted to come to my house because they knew my mom would let us eat junk food and stay up late. If we asked, she'd even leave her bedroom door open after we watched scary movies. When my mom would pick me up from middle school, all of the boys would say, "Your sister is so hot," and then I would explain that I didn't have a sister. Back then, it bothered me. But now when someone says my sister is hot, I just agree. Because she is. She's a youthful 42, and we do seem more like sisters than mother and daughter. When I came to the University of Kansas for the first time, everyone at orientation kept handing her things and asking her about her major. Finally, she pushed me in front and said, "My daughter will be going to school here, not me."
When we'd go to the mall, my mom hung out with my friends and me, and we didn't mind. She even looked like one of us: petite, trendy and always giggling. Sometimes before I went out with my friends, my mom would let me play dress-up in her closet. It's fun having a mom with
when there were cute boys in the vicinity) and when to joke around. It might be her strange sense of humor, but I never tire of her. You'd think that after 21 years of boob jokes, you'd become immune, but I still laugh at every one. The one about the awesomeness of the WonderBra gets me every time. It turns your chest into a deadly weapon. (Just don't hug anyone in that thing, you'll smother them.) I even laugh when she pretends to make my dog talk. She picks him up and holds him in her lap hiding her face in his fur. She moves his front paws about like he's in a really deep conversation, gesturing to get his point across. She says if he had a voice he'd sound like Mickey Mouse, and then she walks around, pretending she's the dog saying, "Oh boy!" in her best cartoon voice.
This past Christmas I stayed in Allentown for almost a month. We went to the King of Prussia Mall, Philadelphia, and we ate New York-style pizza in a hole in the wall with real Italian gangsters and an owner named Sal. Every morning we'd run to the coffee shop and have grande caramel lattes with soy milk and no whipped cream. It was the best time I've
That last Sunday, on my way to the air- port, it hit me. I had to go
back to Kansas. It was then that I realized how much I missed my mom, not because she was my mom, but because she was my friend. On the plane I fought back my tears. I finally made it home and called her to plan my next visit. My friends and family say I am too attached to my mom and that I need to grow up. I say I like spending all my spare time with my favorite person. I don't even see her as my mother anymore. To me, she's a best friend who just happens to be named "Mom."
I don't know why it took me so long to figure out that I'd always had a best friend, but they do say you find love when you least expect it. She's been with me my whole life, so I guess this friendship gives new meaning to BFF. Thanks, Mom.
Contact writer at:
lfoskey@kansan.com
05.05.05 Jayplay
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