Driving Miss Norma
Extract:
“ ‘Tim, you have to tell your mom where we are going,’ Ramie insisted.
‘You tell her,’ I nervously quipped back.
Ramie rarely pulled this card, but this time it just came out: ‘She's your mom. You have to tell her.’ She was right – we could not just push Mom through the doors of a ‘pot shop’ without fair warning. Turning down the music and turning up the volume of my voice so she could hear in the back, I said, ‘Mom, we’re going to a marijuana shop in Boulder to get you something for your pain. Okay?’
A strong voice emerged over the faint reggae rhythms: ‘Oh no we’re not,’ she said. Ramie whispered, ‘Semantics, Tim, semantics. She is okay with ‘cannabis,’ not ‘marijuana’.’ She raised her voice and said, ‘Norma, remember when we talked the other day about the cannabis cream for your leg?’
‘Yes, sure,’ she replied. Ramie reassured her, saying, ‘That’s where we’re going, to see if we can get some of that cream for you.’
‘Oh, I guess that would be okay,’ she conceded.”
