look what i raised
I have been writing my YA novel on a 15-year-old computer. It freezes at least twice a day. It is riddled with viruses and worms. It does funky things when I’m trying to add page breaks or format page numbers. The monitor is scratched. The mouse has to be thumped and fiddled with to work. The printer makes awful sounds. I back up my work on floppy disks.
On Memorial Day, I was on the front porch monitoring the progress of the sun across the sky. Boywonder was home from Chicago, and had just returned from an errand. He came out on the porch and handed me a new, wireless mouse.
Great! We could use it on the used but nice, old but newer than what we had family computer, and I would take the old mouse upstairs to use on my ancient, glorified word processor.
Out comes Boywonder again. With a microfiber cloth. Wonderful! We’d use it to keep the downstairs monitor nice.
And then a thumbdrive.
Then a powerstrip, then a laptop cooler, then a case…
And a laptop! Dell, no less!!!
My 25-year-old-son decided his writing mom needed a laptop.
The pieces started to fall into place. The sudden trip home. The inordinate interest in my writing process and personal goals and deadlines.
It’s been over a week, and I still get teary.
Sure, the laptop is great. I can get internet on it. It’s fast, it’s reliable and easy to use. I can get unbelievable amounts of work done now. I can do it on the third floor. I can do it on the first. I can do it on the porch. I can do it in bed. (Pause while you construct your own joke.)
That’s all really nice.
But you know the best part?
My son seeing me as more than just his mom.