To Mom
Yusuf needed money, and that was hard to come by for a ten-year-old with no professional skills or experience: sure he could yo-yo with the best of his class—walking the dog, bringing it around the world: yes, he knew most, if not all, the tricks. But he couldn’t make money from yo-yoing—at least that’s what his mom said last week over a plate of eggplant lasagna, in between shakes of her head and turns of her rolling eyes. The thing was Yusuf longed for a Canon Rebel Ti-80 DSLR camera: it’s what he saw when he closed his eyes and what he saw when he opened them— literally; he had cut out a picture of the Ti-80 from a magazine that had come in the mail and taped it up on the wall next to his bed. Sadly, the price was under the picture and this camera didn’t come cheap; it was $280.
How could Yusuf get $280? He spent hours searching the deepest corners of the internet (some of it blocked by a family safe filter installed by his dad) desperately looking for a way, any way, to make money. The only age-appropriate method he could find was to sell lemonade. Why was it always lemonade? thought Yusuf. Even so, over the next two weeks he got to work; first, by convincing his unquestioningly supportive grandma to buy a large tub of lemonade mix while with her on a Winco groceries run; next, he cajoled his very questioning father to buy him a big poster board and a mega pack of paper cups (luckily they were on sale); and lastly, he pleaded, successfully, for his mom to drive him to Ann Morrison Park the upcoming Saturday with all of his supplies and the family’s rickety scratched up fold-out table which was hidden behind a sea of boxes in the garage.
The timing was of the utmost importance—it was the 14th of July (the peak of summer), a time of blazing hot weather and no school. With little else to do people would be flocking in droves to float the river; and where would they end their journey? Ann Morrison Park. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough, but when it did, Yusuf was ready. He scarfed down a banana, peanut butter and honey sandwich and rushed his barely ready mother out of the door, leaving behind a groggy and confused father and two sleeping brothers. When Yusuf and his mom got to the park, a group of grey and sinister looking clouds boldly blocked out the sun, ushering in a foreboding darkness. At Yusuf’s insistence, they set up their table nonetheless. A short five minutes after they finished, rain came cascading down upon them, as thunder roared threateningly. They had to leave; no one was there and it was dangerous—at least that’s what Yusuf’s mom said—Yusuf himself thought he saw a group of people coming around the corner, but it turned out to be a rather irritated family of geese. Resigned to his fate, Yusuf relented and he and his mom packed up.
Just when he thought all was lost, Yusuf realized his mom wasn’t taking him home but to Goody’s Soda Fountain & Candy Store for hot chocolate and a mixed bag of sweets as selected by him. It wasn’t a camera, but in twenty-odd years that’s not what he’d remember. He’d remember the warm smell of freshly sculpted waffle cones, the unexpected yet somehow perfect combination of Dutch cocoa and candy sharks, and the lilting laugh of his rain-drenched, adventurous mom.
