Dear Elli,
Today it was raining when I left work, and I was lucky enough to have an umbrella. A very small, personal sized, umbrella. Not a giant golf umbrella.
As I walked out the door, I noticed several people standing under the awning, looking wistfully at my umbrella. They expected me to share.
I didn't. In fact, I skillfully avoided eye contact and raced out the door. Alone. With my umbrella. My personal sized umbrella.
Now I know I tell you that we must share and be kind to others. However, I am a freak about sharing umbrellas. There is code of conduct that I have regarding the sharing of rain deflection equipment.
It goes like this: I can only share a personal sized umbrella with someone who I know well, and like well. Because sharing such a small umbrella requires the invasion of my personal space. And I deeply value my personal space. (Golf umbrellas don't count, because I can still maintain a personal space bubble while remaining dry with my umbrella partner.)
I told you I was a freak.
But seriously. I don't like to be touched by people I don't know very well. Unless the touchers come from the great state of Oklahoma. Because all people from Oklahoma touch everyone. And they are the most genuinely nice people I've ever met. But that's it.
Unless, of course, I've been drinking. Then I turn into a hugger and a back slapper and an arm around your shoulderer. But that's totally it for real. And yes, I realize that shoulderer is not really a word. But I'm making a point because I feel residual guilt about not sharing my umbrella with that guy from IT.
But I love people. Really, I do. Just not when they're too close. In fact, I love people as long as they remain approximately two feet away from me. And not with me under a personal sized umbrella in the rain as if we are the co-stars of the newest romantic comedy. I hate romantic comedies. And sharing umbrellas.
And I've noticed that you are not too fond of being touched by strangers, either. You have the gift (or the curse) of being really freaking cute. And people like to touch you. Old ladies at the grocery store. The librarian. Waitresses. You name it. They want to pinch your cheeks or touch your blond curls. And you hate it. And I totally get it.
And I'm sorry. That's another one of my freakish qualities that you have either inherited or are being conditioned to develop because of me.
So I will make you a deal. I will never yell at you for not sharing an umbrella. Unless the person you are dealing with is either elderly or disabled. If that is the case, you either will share or you will just give them the damn thing and walk in the rain yourself.
Either way is fine. Because karma is very real and the universe will definitely get you if you refuse to help the elderly or disabled. And it's the right thing to do. Even if you have to lose an umbrella over it. So remember to buy cheap umbrellas.
And it's OK if we don't like people getting all handsy with us. (And handsy is also not a real word). Just admit that you're kind of a freak and move on. With your umbrella. Alone.
That's what I do. With only a small amount of residual guilt over the wet guy from IT. And the knowledge that I probably would have shared if I was either in Oklahoma or slightly drunk.
I love you.
Mom
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