We didn’t have computers when we were young, but we did have “influencers.” Our dining room tables served as our home screens, and we uncomfortably and sometimes reluctantly sat around the table we never used for meals, and oohed and aaahed at the Tupperware or the candles, the home decor that everyone had, and the baskets that no one could afford. The host, (we didn’t have the trendy word for it then) told us how our lives would be so much better if we only had this container that she burped to everyone’s approval, the candle she lit as if it were a sacrifice of all things ordinary, and filled the woven baskets with things we couldn’t afford, or perhaps didn’t even want. 

I didn’t have to look up from my mother’s knee to see her eyes rolling. I could feel them wander. Feel her chest rise and fall, keeping time with the second hand on the clock. Watch her pretend to read the order form and slip it under the placemat. It’s so easy now to swipe the screen, but it was almost impossible to do the same with neighbors or sisters-in-law. Yet she, we, made our own way.

I’m not sure what it was that made my mom want something different. Made her repeal against the influence. To not follow the trend, but create a style. Be it home or fashion, the thought of someone sporting the same look as her was repulsive. And oh, I loved her for it. Now, you might say, well, she was just “influencing you”… but I say no, I was inspired. Inspired to create my own self. My own style. What’s the difference you may ask? I think to be influenced is an ending, but to be inspired, oh to be inspired, this is to begin! What a gift this is! To not be trapped at the unused table but be set free through the swinging back door! 

So I won’t tell you what to do. I’ll only fling open the door. Open all the windows. The rest is up to you! Enjoy!