Until Her

The house smelled of hairspray, pasta, and panic, “Mom, I can’t find my t-shirt! Did you wash it”? Ella shouts across the room trying to get my attention. “Yeah hunny, it’s in the dryer”. I shout back. “K, thanks”. She shoves her hands into the dryer pulling it out, the static clings against the fabric. “Are you almost ready, I don’t want us to be late,” I say worriedly rushing to the door of the garage. “There’s gonna be a lot of traffic.” She yells back, “Yeah, I’m just fixing my hair.” Ella hurriedly rushes brushing out her long curly light brown locks, heading down the hallway. I get in the car, adjusting the mirrors, my face reflecting back at me. I remember when I used to look for a mirror every time I walked by one, just to see myself. Seeing the younger, softer, more vibrant me. I was beautiful in my younger days. I mean, I am still attractive now, I’m not a dog, not barking, but I don’t feel like I am beautiful anymore. The years of stress, and heavy loads of responsibility have controlled me so long that I don’t even know who I am anymore. Nowadays, the make-up I wear is just a slight enhancement, something to make me not feel like a corpse, and like I am not as dead as I feel on the inside. But makeup can only be superficial. It doesn’t cover up, or mask all my faults, not the inner struggles I have endured. Now I have stray gray hairs that scatter my head, lines and creases revealing my age. The fine lines linger where I squint in order to see things more clearly, and the years of smiles I’ve had now reveal the lines of the past. The age spots are a whole other crisis, showing up places I never had a mark. My daughter calls them freckles, cute freckles. But, really at my age are they? I don’t know, but Ella says I slay, and when we go shopping together she says my clothes look, fire. Whatever that means. “Mom, promise you’re gonna try and have a good time?” I look at her confused, I may be old, but I know how to have a good time. “What makes you think I am not gonna have fun? I love concerts. Plus, I get to spend time with you.” She looks at me like I am insane.“Yeah but it’s not just us, my friends will be there. I don’t want you to feel awkward.” Ella says trying to make me feel like she’s worried I’m going to feel out of place, but I know she is worried I will embarrass her. “I will be fine. I am actually looking forward to seeing her, Laura, or something perform. “Lara, Mom, come on”. She snaps. “Hey, I think she is really talented, I know some of her songs they’re lit.” I say trying to sound cool. Ella looks over at me with a disgusted smirk on her face, “Yeah, I’m excited too, Mom. Thanks for getting us tickets!" Completely ignoring my cringe worthy response. I look over at her, and smile as she lifts her Beats wireless headphones over her head to tune me out. As we get closer to the arena, the traffic starts to become more congested. The sounds of horns honking, and people yelling overtaking my senses. “I told you we should have left earlier.” I complain, worried we won’t make the show. Sitting in loads of traffic heightens my anxiety, having to change lanes, bumper to bumper, the car next to me has some guy cursing out the window. I am not one for dealing with road rage. I look down the street with the least amount of traffic, there is a small sign, minimal advertising, concert parking this way. A sign hangs on a building to a private garage across the street for only $20. I drive forward into the garage, avoiding the long lines and congestion of the city. My hand reaches out the window, grabbing a printed ticket as it slowly pushes out of the machine, before going under the lifted gate. Luckily, we find a close spot in a lighted area, “Perfect, we will have safe parking here since it will be lit up.” Ella laughs at me, “You’re funny mom, there’s gonna be like 3,000 people around us, we will be fine, stop worrying.” I have always worried about everything, ever since I became a mom. I know I am a worry wart, always nervous about what’s going to happen, and constantly thinking of the bad things that could transpire with every action. “Mom are you, okay?” Ella says as she pulls down her head phones, sliding them under the front seat, slipping off her seat belt. “Yeah babe, I’m good. Just haven’t done something like this since she was with us.” Ella looks down, not needing me to explain about the break up, the turmoil that we went through. She knew what I meant. Ella and I never have to say the things that are hard. We have a special bond that doesn’t need much explanation. “Well, I think it is about time we change your frown, into a smile, and have the best night.” I follow Ella’s lead, and we get out of the car, walking toward the arena. Exorbitant amounts of people fill the streets, laughing around us, and hyped up for the show. Merch trucks and retailer stands line across the perimeter block after block. Posters of Lara’s name hanging, elevating the experience. Scalpers trying to sell tickets to the sold out, one night only show. Her music echoes in the street, people scream in excitement. I look around at the crowd of all ages, but then see women about my age, and think to myself, "Is this even my scene anymore? Am I too old to be here?" Ella grips my hand as we enter the line, “I am so excited! I hope my phone battery will last.” she says with her face reddening with worry. Her hands rummage through her tiny purse, looking for her portable charger. “Don’t worry, I brought the power bank.” I say pulling the cord out of my cross-body bag. Security waves us forward to enter the metal detectors, Ella lights up knowing we are just inches away from the experience we have awaited so long.