It's amazing how you can read into your mother's text messages. It wasn't necessarily the curt nature of it, that's fairly standard in texts from my parents -- it's a generational thing. It was the period at the end. The word "need." The directive -- you.
As I walked back over the Williamsburg Bridge from my Sunday night yoga class, I hit Mom Cell from my phone's favorites list. Her voice was deeper. And very authoritative. Shit. She was in Mom-Mode.