The Slip

It was around 5:00am on a weekday morning in December of 1978. In our South Remington Avenue home in Bexley, my mother (Janice) dressed absentmindedly for her job with the Columbus Public School System as a Bus Driver. (Her three teenagers were asleep as they had the school off for a teacher in-service day).

As my mother went outside to get in her car, she thought the frigid Ohio air seemed to be extremely cold on her legs. Finally arriving at the bus compound, my mother slipped into the women’s bathroom to pull down her black skirt.  Much to her amazement the only thing she was pulling on was her black slip. She never put her black skirt on.

Because this was an emergency, my mother revved up her school bus, and made a half an hour side trip back to our home. I was the first child to greet my mother when she marched back into the house with a look on her face that could wilt roses.

I was up early reading a novel I was enjoying immensely. Alarmed I asked my mother, “Why are you home? Did something happen? Are you all right?”

With irritation she responded, “Why do you ask so many questions? If you must know, I forgot to put on my black skirt. This is my black slip, “she said as she hurried upstairs to her room to put on the piece of missing cloth.

I smiled as I thought about how much I loved my mother (She was even more important to me now since my father had died earlier that year in June). Life was like a roller coaster ride with her around. I never knew what was coming next with all the ups and downs. When God made my mother, it was for certain that He broke the mold. Things could never be boring with her around.