My Mother's Emoticons.

No no no no no. NO! The mere thought of my mom with her reading glasses on, squinting as she scans through emoticons on her computer for the right one. The right eggy face to send me. It has become unbearable to check my email.

She knows the cool kids are doing it. She knows it’s chic to say it all in a symbol. And I know that she’s totally capable of clicking her mouse on a smiley image! It’s just the idea of her catching up and all. Catching up to technology. Catching up to the hip and the new. Catching up as if she’s running, so small, behind a crazy-moving train, with her big curly fro blowing in its dust. That is what puts my heart through a paper shredder. 

I tentatively open my inbox and this is what awaits me. And I want to reply but I don’t think there’s an emoticon yet for “I’M DYING OF LASTIMA”.