My mother and I  met on Cupid.com
I was thirteen and she was forty-five;
but on her profile she was listed as
twenty-nine. We agreed to meet
at the local Starbucks on a Sunday afternoon.

The sun was out;
it's rays like orange sprinkles dusting
the dead, green earth
and snake-like sidewalks.

I sat in the far corner, my head
in a book; every now and then
peeking over the pages my
finger bookmarked. I was reading
******, and I had not made it
past the first page. Lo-Lee-
Ta, or something rather.

She arrived ten minutes later
than the time we agreed on,
but I wasn't angry. She offered
to buy me a Iced Vanilla Frappuccino
and salted caramel cake-pop but I declined.

We sat there for what seemed like a decade.
I was too busy looking around; acting
like I was admiring the art on the walls;
and she was playing with her hands;
humming to a popular female folk singer-
songwriter that was playing over the loudspeakers.

'I can go,' she said after the track finished.

'No, it's okay.
Stay, please' I said.

There was silence.

'It's been a while since I've seen you'
she said.

'I know, I know' I said,
'You lied
about your age.
That's not cool'

'Sorry about that.
I just didn't know
if you'd like me
if I was older
than forty..'

'That's the entire point,
no?' I interrupted.

And I didn't notice
she had bad posture
until she started fidgeting
with her hair; it was in a loose,
unkempt bun. She tugged
at the hair tie until
it all fell down to her shoulders.

I was finally relieved
to see that I had a beautiful
mother and soon suggested
that we go to her place
and talk about my childhood.

She smiled, and made
an attempt to grab the car
keys she left on the table,
but I was quicker.

'No,' I said laughing,
'I'm driving'.

And that was the first
time I ever took charge;
and nothing has changed since.