Mimosas

My mom asked if I wanted to go to Easter brunch since my sister and her crew are heading to Disneyland again. And while brunch sounds cute in theory, let’s be real—brunch to me means bottomless mimosas, and since my mom doesn’t drink (and who actually drinks with their mom anyway?), it just doesn’t feel worth the price tag.

It made me think of that night after Sheila’s play, when we ended up at Mr. Furley’s and she got way drunker than she planned. What stuck with me wasn’t just the tipsy giggles or her slurring, “I’m too old for this,” but her mom—so calm, so kind—just quietly helping her into bed without judgment. It was messy but sweet. And I couldn’t help but think, Yeah… my mom would’ve handled that whole night very differently. So, yeah. I think I’ll pass on brunch.

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