Note: Today is my mother’s birthday. Because she puts up with me and loves me, she is allowing me to publicly share a story at her expense On.Her.Birthday. If that is not motherly love, I don’t know what is.
A couple of years ago, my mom stopped smiling in photographs. When I called her on it, she told me she did it so her wrinkles wouldn’t show. Now, the crazy irony of this is that thanks to splendid Cuban DNA, the woman — whose age I won’t tell you ’cause she’ll kill me — isn’t wrinkled.
Lately, the non- or small-smile poses have been coupled with her putting her hand to her chin or cheek, to pull back the “wrinkles.”
So despite our making fun of her — we make fun of each other a lot in Cuban families — she has persisted. And persisted despite her two sisters public and repeated mocking of her. Witness, the following photographs. My Mami is in the yellow and had no idea her sisters were posing like her.
So, last week in Miami my mom, my daughter, my aunts and their childhood friend, Amanda, and I were out to lunch when we held a public intervention in a small restaurant off of Flagler Street.
I think we fixed her. She sent me photos of herself yesterday, smiling broadly.
Watch the video to see the hilarious, Cuban-style intervention.
Love you, Mami. And, Tias, thanks for the laughs.