Dear Mom,

Once I was standing alone at a trade fair in Sweden.

My booth was hidden in the farthest corner of the gigantic building and I looked out against a bare wall.

There. Came. No. Chicken.

I was a few weeks pregnant with Sep (no idea) and was as unstable as strands of spaghetti. After another day without visitors, I called you. I had had it and wanted to stop.

A week later the Maison et Objet fair would take place in Paris and you decided on the spot that you would come with me. Despite not speaking a word of English or German.

We rented a van and drove to Paris.

Even though you are well into your sixties. You always build and lug the booth with me and you worked with me every minute for the full nine days. You never complain.

Our booth is always packed with people because of your enormous humor, charm and sociability. And no one gets away without an order.

You are the all-time great sales tiger I know.

By now we've been going together for years and you're famous. The first thing people ask me is, "Where's your mom?"

And hopefully we get to go again this year.

I am already looking forward to these nine days: roadtripping, laughing, building up and breaking down, arguing, eating lots and lots of good food, having fun, good conversations, just being together, pulling each other through and banging really hard.

You're the best!

I love you, dear Muttie

X Floor

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