If you live a sheltered life, you are guarded from certain information. I won’t say protected because you need to know things whether you want to or not.

There was a conversation a woman pulled me into about the trouble Beau Friend was having with his grown son. I listened wearily, knowing she was going to be with the man regardless. Soon as she paused to catch her breath, I said, “And don’t tell me anything else.”

Now tell me, what good was that information to me? And why are you putting out your man’s business? I thought he was the best thing since buttermilk biscuits is going in my head.

Plus, she’s in the almost phase of being bonus mom. She may be able to add a soft touch to the trouble going on there. When she acquired this man, I told her straight away Act right. Don’t be cuttin’ up. She says back, indignant and all, You don’t know him. Naturally, I spit back, But I know youuuu, which shut down further rebuttal. Instead, she dismisses me for another topic.

We have these random conversations, by the way. She can get huffy, telling me about the folk in her circle, as if everybody’s wrong besides her. I always imagine her head tied up or plaits dangling every which way, with her legs propped on the coffee table in some worn-out house gown. And let me tell you, you don’t want impromptu FaceTime calls with her. She dolls up for the man, I feel I deserve a stronger presentation too. After all, the visual is all you have outside of the dialogue.

Come on, Mom. Put your teeth in at least, I say just to rile her up. Kiss my grits, Portraitist. You’re about a smart mouth thang.

**Showing off 7th grade student work. Image inspired by Tim Burton for charcoal self-portrait lesson on the art element, value.**