My mom is cleaning her house out, so she’s wading through a higher volume of my leftover junk than she normally does. She’s also wading through her junk, just so we’re clear.
She knows I write, and so she’s constantly coming across things I’ve jotted down. We are both messy, so they are literally everywhere. Drawers, notebooks, cabinets, as bookmarks. One of the great things about her is her unbelievable faith in my talents (or amateur hobbies, take your pick).
Mom: I just found the most beautiful poem you wrote! Ahhhh, you’re such a good writer.
Me: Really? What does it say?
My mom reads some it to me.
Me: Mom…I hate to tell you this, but I just wrote that down.
Mom: You didn’t write that?
Me: Nope, those are lines to a Regina Spektor song.
Mom: It is?
Mom: …Well, it’s just beautiful. What’s the name of the song?
Me: “On the Radio.”
Mom: I’ll have to listen to it!
My mom also once found my scribbling of a Guns ‘n’ Roses song title near a poem I did write and thought it was the name of the poem. Even though the topic had nothing to do with flower thorns. She liked the title best.
Mom: I have a question. I found this: “We don’t meet the right person first. We meet wrong people first, so when we do meet the right person, we realize how lucky we are.” Did you write that?
Me: Nope, I just wrote it down.
Mom: Oh. Who did write it?
Me: I don’t remember who wrote it. Someone on the internet, I think. Or I heard it on the internet. Why?
Me: You haven’t been telling people I wrote it, have you?
Mom: Yeah, I have actually. I’ve been telling them how beautifully you write.
Moral of the story: if you hear something, and it says I wrote it, but it sounds like a song title, lyrics, or something that a Christian preacher would say, my mom probably thought I wrote it.