“When will you be home?”
I crammed my box of sewing things in my trunk and juggled my phone. “Um, I don’t know, I’m leaving my class now.”
“The police were here. And they scared my mom.”
So Mother went home today. The visit was…interesting.
Last week Good Man and I both had vacation, but this week Mother was home alone. We took her to the Korean spa and left her there for the day while we worked (which she loved), and she did a Korean tour agency’s tour of Luray Caverns and DC on Wednesday (which she also enjoyed).
The real adventure came Thursday afternoon, though!
After Good Man called to tell Mother he was on his way home, Mother saw the police digging through our mailbox. She peeked at them through the windows, and became very nervous. She decided to go out and see what they needed
When she left the house, she locked herself out.
Mother managed to explain to the officers that it was her son and daughter-in-law’s house and that she had locked herself out. (I was really proud of her when I heard she did it in English.)
The officers, in turn, tried to break into our home using a credit card.
I’ll let that sink in for a moment.
The credit card break in was a failure (luckily, I think?) and our neighbor across the way saw Mother. She came over and asked which language Mother spoke. She then called several friends until she got one who was able to interpret for her.
When the neighbor discovered what was going on, she invited Mother in, but Mother was too nervous. (Ir probably didn’t help that the neighbor has some very gorgeous, very large Huskies!) So the neighbor gave her a lawn chair and some blankets so she could keep warm while she waited.
She wasn’t locked out for too long, and Good Man soon came home.
When I arrived home after my sewing class, it was well after dark and I called the police to see why they were digging in my mailbox.
Mother had gone for a walk during the day, but not wanting to get lost, she had walked up and down our street several times. She was afraid that she had looked suspicious and wanted to be sure she hadn’t gotten us in trouble.
I wanted to make sure the police were real, since we had a weird incident a few months ago where a woman knocked on the door and accused us of having her husband’s iPhone.
They were real police, and they had been digging through our mailbox. They were looking for a name, but weren’t sure of the address.
I don’t know why they didn’t use computers.
When Good Man got home, he and Mother went out to look for boxed juice. She wanted to give the neighbor a thank-you gift, but wasn’t able to find the bottles of juice she wanted. Instead, she bought a whole lot of…grapes.
After school yesterday, Mother and I walked to the neighbor’s house so we could thank her.
“In Korea, you give food. Usually you give a box of bottled juice, but we couldn’t find that. So we bought these,” I said, holding out the bag of grapes.
My neighbor peeked in the bag and exclaimed, “I love grapes!”
We spoke for a few more minutes, and Good Man got home and thanked her as well. Finally, the three of us headed out for a last dinner together.
At dinner, our waitress was amazing! It was super busy, but she was always friendly, attentive without being annoying, and really bubbly.
When the manager asked how our dinner was, I complimented our waitress. When the waitress brought us our check, I told her I had talked to her manager about her. She laughed and thanked us, and then asked what we were doing during the weekend.
I told her Mother was leaving and she wished her a good trip. Good Man was away from the table and I interpreted. Mother told me to tell the waitress that she was great.
I did, and the waitress continued her friendly banter and then, out of nowhere, Mother patted the server’s butt.
My hands shot across the table to grab her wrists. “Mother, you can’t do that!” I said in Korean. I turned to the waitress and apologized.
Mother put her hands together as if she was praying and apologized. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Older Korean women, when they like younger people, they sometimes swat your butt,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “I am so sorry!”
The waitress laughed and said it was OK. Good Man arrived at the table. “Your mom just patted her ass.”
I started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I looked at our waitress and chuckled. “She knew me for years before she patted my butt. She must really like you!”
We tipped her twenty-five percent.