I became a mother at 50 and lost my mother at 50 – what could be more profound? A woman on the bayou told me she doesn’t know if she would be brave enough to become a mother at 50 and I said that’s because you were a mother at 20, so you don’t have to think about those things. Today the man at brake tag office was smiling as he was applying my new tag because I was holding a dump truck in my hand that Tin had left in the backseat. He said with a sly smile, “Grandson?”
I stared at him blankly for a few minutes because I wasn’t connecting the dots. “No, son, as a matter of fact.”
He in turned stared back blankly.
Maybe he was impressed that you would reproduce at age 50. Think how much more he would have impressed had he known you produced a beautiful black child?
No kidding!