Keeping Mum

It's my mom's birthday tomorrow. And like every Mother's Day, every birthday, I write her a cheque. And my mom being my mom, would never bank in the cheque.

There's two reasons to that, both I won't share.

I had a 3 o-clock today. I nearly forgot about that, for it not the phone call I received to remind me. It's weird, because they said to me, "Welcome back, only with different hair" Not even different hairstyle, just different hair. Like they would know what they're talking about.

I went back to a familiar place. A familiar heartache. I would have done a better house tour. And I would have sold a lot more. I did it so well. Qert did it so well. We brought house tours that was so much more than just a house tour.

I kept quiet as I joined this house tour. Familiar place. My pitch was so much better. So much more me. Then again, it's me. My original team, down to two. Only two.

My heart truly ached when I saw the condition of the lift. Heads would roll if I still ran that lobby. Everything felt so familiar, the touch, the place, the colours, the same dent, on the same desk, the stain, on the same spot. So much familiarity. The smell. The colour. The feel. The pain. The tear. The vent. The riser. All of a sudden all the anger well up in me and I was going to club someone.

I am glad I got out of it. I am glad I no longer have to sit in these familiar series and cry because they don't know how much I loved the job and the rooms. That they don't know how liberating it is to go up to the penthouse swimming pool and yell my lungs out.

All the things I've left behind.
What changed? Besides the lift now takes 10 minutes to arrive.
What changed? Besides 5th floor is still a dumpster.
What changed? Besides my one-bedroom suite quarter is now the Butler's Pantry.
What changed? Besides not holding one key to open a hundred doors.
What changed? Nothing much. I went back to a familiar lobby and only 1 son was left, and called me mom.
What changed?