After the day was over, after all the calls to all the various types of mothers had been made, after Rocky had given us our gifts (a bunch of lovely irises for me, a green silky nightshirt for Ru), the dog had been walked, Rocky was in bed, and the moms were settling in for a quiet late night, Rukan noticed that there was a voicemail. “Hey, it’s Aza. I’ve been working a double shift all day . . . [something about surfing, more about surfing, surfing surfing surfing] . . . finally got a chance to call and tell you guys happy mother’s day. All right. Love you!”
How many times a month can you cry from happiness?