Cuts, she said.
My parents have almost no savings.
So when Mom lost her job, it mattered.
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My parents considered selling their house for a ground-floor condo behind a FedEx.
Underemployed and living in New York.
My safety net had lost her safety net.
Are you good at writing cover letters?
Mom asked one night.
Shed never written one.
Mom asked me to write her first cover letter.
I typed three double-spaced paragraphs about cleaning teeth.
I was slightly hungover, though, so I accidentally included my phone number in the signature block.
The next day I received a call from someone addressing me as Mrs. Sockel.
We straightened it out eventually.
Ugh, do you know how to make the margins smaller in Word?
Mom texted a week later.
Its surprising until its not surprising at all, because shes almost exactly like you.
Mom calls to complain about the tyranny of page breaks.
Texts at 10 p.m. on a Wednesday with a 911 about proofing an email.
Gossips about her 50-something friends with health insurance and 401Ks.
Envy-Googles high school acquaintances.
Its endearing, actually.
Should I put Walking on my resume?
Mom was editing the first resume of her life.
I love taking walks.
Mom does love taking walks.
And baking oatmeal cookies with gooey centers.
WatchingForensic Filesin a paper-thin bathrobe.
Growing cukes (cucumbers) in the community garden.
Texting me five heart-eye emojis in a row.
All stars in the constellation that is the Brand of Mom.
Mom slicked herself out on Monster.com.
Opened a Gmail account.
FedExed the first resume of her life to recruiters and started to build a story around herself.
A story about what shed learned in those 35 years.
Also, how to be loyal.
I held Moms face in my hand as it glowed in a box on a responsively designed website.
I gripped the mic.
You work your whole life until the floor cracks open in a single conversation.
You fall, call your son, take a walk.
It happens to everyone.
Were always turning ourselves into other people, usually before we think were ready.
We found ourselves in Kohls a few months later.
Ribbed sweaters, scarves, slacks.
Mom wanted something new for the New Year.
I got that job, Mom said when her phonezooped.
We laughed between the racks of discount cardigans.
I gave Mom a side-hug and we kept shopping for knitwear like nothing had happened.
I was still running a dangerously high credit card balance, but at least my safety net was safe.
Mom started a week later as a kind of front-of-house manager at a dental clinic.
I still see her on my LinkedIn sidebar, smiling like a boss.
