THE WEEKEND

It seemed like just another Friday, but as the leaves swirled around doing their dance at my feet, I knew it was a day unlike any I had experienced in the past 26 years. I don't know if my mother knew what it meant to me. Oh I know others don't understand what it's like to have your own mother slam the door in their face for what seems like forever. Why can't people just get along?

My mother, now 70 years old, was taking a 3 hour bus trip to visit me and realize a "dream" of hers: to visit her parents' cabin in Clear Lake, Iowa. I don't know if the dream was being there with me, but I hope so. My grandparents bought it somewhere around the 1950s and it's a quaint little cottage that my family rents out during the spring and summer and closes in the late fall. My spouse Beth and I go there for a relaxing weekend for fishing and whatnot. It's just over an hour away from our home in Waterloo, Iowa. My mother had mentioned this to me last year while we were having lunch in Davenport and it shocked me. I was cautiously optimistic, though I knew I had reason not to be.

The weather was so beautiful that day; a bright blue sky and the air was crisp but not too cool as I arrived at the bus station. I didn't wait inside, however, as I wanted to be alone in my car. The minutes ticked by so loud. I had to admit, part of me wondered if she wouldn't be there to step off that bus. If she wasn't, I didn't want to even look at my conscience. In an instant, I watched the red bus roll in like the fall breeze that whipped through my hair as I got out of my car. This was a moment I'd waited for since 2008, when my mother and I began corresponding and meeting for lunches. She was actually coming to see me.

I watched the people exit the bus one by one with a bit of worry in my heart, but then I saw her smiling face when our eyes met. She quickly gave me a hug and since she was carrying her luggage, a bright blue bag, we walked to my car. As we drove to my house, I could barely believe it was real. Once arriving at my house, she got out and looked around the yard(we have 3/4 of an acre) and talked outside for a few minutes. I seemed oblivious to much else but the moment. As I gave her the tour of my house, I couldn't have been prouder...proud that I have a house to show and proud that I believed I had made something of myself. In my early years of being disowned by this woman, I wanted to have some kind of revenge; that kind of "A HA! Take that, you crazy woman!" moment. Now that this was happening, I didn't feel that way at all. I was prouder, still, that I persevered in the face of situations thrown my way. Someone I expected to be there for me had chosen not to. I made my own way in any way possible and that wasn't because of her. It was because of me.

So my mother fawned over my house, telling me how wonderful it was as she settled in her room. I got out snacks and we talked and talked, something I had only ever wished for. I had made a lasagna for supper and when Beth, my spouse came home, we ate and talked and talked and ate. There is a real love that comes out in food, there is no denying it. Anyone who knows me, knows I love to cook and plan entire meals. So much so that it's difficult for me to understand anyone who doesn't. We three spent the rest of the evening talking and talking. Beth went to bed early, but my mother and I continued talking until late. I really had to pinch myself into believing my mother at long last was sitting in my living room. The woman who sat in front of me, though, didn't seem to be the woman I grew up with. This woman was polite, too polite, as if she were somewhere new and didn't want to put anyone out. This was somewhere new for her, somewhere I am sure she didn't expect to be.


Next: THE LAKE