Writing Prompt: "You Look Great In that Uniform"
A story about mother-daughter bonds inspired by the struggles and support happening in communities across the country.
This morning I’m sharing a story I wrote during a writing prompt class with Charlie Allenson hosted by the New York Society Library. Charlie’s class always opens with a lively discussion—often a passionate reflection on what’s happening in the world and community around us.
The opening discussion got me thinking about how many people are struggling right now. With grocery prices climbing higher each year (up 31% since 2019), a highly competitive job market, and the impact of today’s politics on immigrant communities, it seems everywhere I look someone is carrying a heavy load they’re trying not to show.
This story came from thinking about all the people—especially the mothers—doing their best with what they have. It’s a wink to the angels that show up in our lives when we need them most.
Charlie finds the prompts for his class by opening a book and reading a line from it then setting a time for seven minutes. The line this story was inspired by is: You look great in that uniform.
I’d love to know if any of the aspects of the story resonate with you.
Every morning since I can remember, Mom has made me something she calls "healthy" for breakfast. Eggs are the best, oatmeal is ok, and her "super green" smoothies are the worst! It’s like she thinks that calling it super changes the fact it tastes like grass combined with honey-flavored dirt. She uses a frozen banana, carrot leaves, and the greens from dandelions in our yard; although all are technically edible, no amount of honey can change how bitter it tastes.
This morning, she made scrambled eggs. Phew!
As I sit at the table eating, I watch how the orange strings of her new apron swing below her blue jeans. She drops apples and sandwiches into two paper bags and pulls a red pen from the junk drawer. She has been leaving me notes on napkins since I was in first grade, and although I tell her to stop because I'm in high school and it's embarrassing, I secretly love reading her notes.
Mom had been out of work for four months, and it’s been really hard on us. A couple of weeks ago, when she thought I was sleeping, I heard her talking on the phone with her sister. She said she felt like a failure because she and I had to have dinner at the soup kitchen and pick up our groceries at the church pantry. It made me feel terrible. I wanted to get out of bed and give her a hug, but then she'd know I was listening. I knew Mom was doing her best, and I didn't care what we ate—except for the green smoothies. I'd rather eat nothing than one of those concoctions, but she'd never allow me to do that. Being in this tiny home with Mom felt safe, and that's what mattered most.
At the soup kitchen dinner on Friday night, I saw a familiar face. Mrs. Fink, the school librarian. She scooped rice onto our plates, then filled her own plate and came to sit with us. We talked about the gazebo the Girl Scouts are building in town, and she asked us if we were going to the dollar book sale at the library on Sunday. She knew I loved to read, but she didn't know that I had to leave most of my books behind when Mom and I moved out. There just isn't enough room in our new place for a lot of books.
Mrs. Fink left her meal unfinished and got up. A few minutes later, she returned with a plastic bag filled with containers of food.
"We always have extra at the end of the night," she said.
"Thank you. That's very kind," Mom said, looking down. With the bag in hand, she motioned for me to get up, and we began our walk home.
On Monday, I went to the library and told Mrs. Fink that Mom needed a job and couldn't find one. She used to answer phones at the flower shop in town, but when the owners retired and closed the business, she lost her job. Mom is great with people but not with computers. I asked Mrs. Fink if she knew of anywhere that was hiring.
The next day, Mrs. Fink handed me a book.
"I think you'll like this one," she said with a wink.
Tucked inside the book was a handwritten note that read: Tell Mom to go to Home Depot and ask for Nick. He runs the paint department, and he's hiring someone to help mix the paint. Tell him that Marissa Fink sent her.
Today, Mom would take the 604x bus to her new job. I told her how proud I was of her and that her new uniform—the white t-shirt she had ironed and starched, her favorite blue jeans, and the new orange apron—looked great on her. She gave me a hug and I was on my may.
On my walk to school, the sky looked bluer than it had been in days, and I swear I could smell the daffodils blooming.
Words of the Week
"We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give." - Winston Churchill
Photo of the Week
Our little girl, Carolina, happy as can be eating a gigantic ice cream cone. There are the moments I know she’ll remember when she’s older—the joy of eating ice cream on a hot summer days.
Photo taken in the backyard at Marquee Projects on Long Island. You can see a bit of our friend James Greco’s sculpture (left) in the background.
Everyone is engaged in some kind of struggle and thank you for writing about people just trying to manage their lives. 💕💕
Lia - you did it again. You made me cry with your beautiful "You look great in that..." story. I actually didn't want it to end. You truly are a gifted writer. Did you publish your book yet? Please let me know when you do. And keep writing. Perhaps finish the mother-daughter story...I'm curious about what happened before - and after. Thank you, as always, for sharing.