Fa la la

“Amy, I’m sorry, but that tree is pitiful. Don’t look at me like that. It’s the truth.”

I’m trying so hard not to glare at my mom. And clearly not succeeding.

“Mama, as I mentioned on the phone, I was planning to decorate this weekend.”

“Don’t worry, honey. You’ll still be able to. We’re not spending the night.”

And now I feel like a jerk.

“You can’t go back tonight. It's a long drive! You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the sofa you drove all this way to give me.”

Katie's old sofa, which is a neutral color, like the blanket she gave me, still in excellent condition. And an old, small dining room set they had stored in their barn... 

I might like it. Eventually...

I know I should feel grateful, not mad. I know it, but...

Mom smiles and shakes her head. “Thank you, honey. Not this trip. We have plans after church tomorrow. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you not having a stick of furniture in your house. Except…”

She looks at my diwan, then back at me, one eyebrow raised.

I don’t appreciate the implied criticism. My house. My diwan.

“My neighbors surprised me.”

“No doubt.”

​It’s going to be a long day.