Mother's Day

Mother’s D/ay

Liz was sitting in the armchair looking through old picture albums. Mary was in the kitchen working on dinner, just a few steps away, close enough to respond to the questions that came as Liz paged through the books. The men had been watching a golf game, neither with much interest, and were now stirring around idly. The children were taking a much-needed nap, and Tom moved their toys from underfoot. Jake moved a little stiffly, his age catching up with him. He folded up the newspapers and put them in the recycle bag. To the eye, everything looked peaceful, and yet the atmosphere felt charged, tense, like a storm was coming in.

Mary thought about it as she peeled the potatoes. Normally Liz would have been beside her, chopping something or setting the table. She had always been the most helpful daughter around. This time, however, she’d hung back, staying in the living room with the men. Normally…the word went through Mary’s mind again. What was normal any more?

It had been over a year since her son had brought his family here to see them. Mary had tried before to think of what might have happened. She had asked Jake about it too, when they didn’t come for the holidays or even for Jake’s birthday. Jake said he couldn’t remember anything momentous about that last visit either.

Tom had been evasive. Said it was a long trip, and the girls were difficult in the car. Said that Liz was tired after the week’s work, and so was he. They just needed to stay home and relax.

All of that was true, Mary had no doubt. Still, she’d been watching Tom and Jake together. Nothing happened. No warmth, practically no interaction at all.

Finally, Liz had stretched and said, “I’d better help your mother with dinner. Why don’t you two go take a walk?” Seeing them glance at each other, she urged ”Go on. Dinner won’t be ready for another hour yet at least.” Her voice sounded light, as if she was offering best friends a chance at some fun.

“I hope you can hold supper that long,” Liz said quietly as she walked into the kitchen. The men were putting on their coats and heading out the door. “I don’t know for sure what this is about, but it needs fixing, and they’ll have to do it themselves.”

Mary stood by the window, watching as the two men walked away into the fog. Tom was talking animatedly, and it looked like Jake was listening. Turning to Liz, she smiled. “Thank you for bringing him home. Seeing them like that, talking together—that’s the best present anyone could have given me. At least, it’s the start of one.” She hugged Liz’s shoulders. “Thank you, thank you,” she whispered in her ear.