Proud

I was never really sure my mum was proud of me. My life, to my parents, seemed completely chaotic. I guess that’s because it wasn’t anchored by those things that signified stability to them: a house, a car, a job that could be described in a word or two. (“Something to do with computers?”)
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But then one day I overheard my mum talking about me to someone in tones that were unmistakably proud. “He’s a…” She paused to allow the next bit to really land with impact. “He’s an Amazon Prime member.” She said it as if I’d been initiated into a clandestine club with a secret handshake (and free next day delivery).
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Ten years earlier, I’d taken mum to afternoon tea at the Ritz for her birthday. It can’t have escaped her how far we’d come – from a tea growing region of the world to this tea-serving symbol of high society. And as the waiter arrived with his top hat and our tea, it was magic – like that Prime membership – that we could summon good things to our table.