Cold (Or What She Thought Was Cold)

Mom ran cold.

Always. Non-negotiably. No exceptions.

If the temperature dipped even slightly from what she considered comfortable, layers appeared. Multiple coats. A hoodie under a jacket. Hat pulled down, collar pulled up.

She did not care what anyone else was wearing.

There is a photo from one of our Nationals games that says everything. Mom is bundled so completely inside her red Nationals hoodie that you can barely find her face. Hat pulled down. Hood pulled up over the hat. Hands tucked in.

The person sitting right next to her?

Shorts.

She was completely unbothered.

That was one of her gifts, actually — she knew what she needed and she didn't feel the need to explain it or apologize for it. She just showed up warm and happy while the rest of us silently questioned our life choices.

Whether it was baseball, a family gathering, or a trip somewhere — if Hootsie was cold, Hootsie layered up.

And she did it with a smile.