It was way too early in the afternoon for all the carrying on we did. But we were a jubilant bunch who had so much to celebrate. You couldn’t tell us nothing! In the midst of our celebrations, Mommy got a phone call. I knew her. She used her fake nice voice, and I wondered who she was talking to and what nonsense they spat in her ear. But when she hung up, she looked like she would cry.
“Mommy??”
“I’m alright. I’m alright. It’s just, ummm… Well, I’m at the age where your friends start dropping like flies. And, one day, I’ll be gone too. If you’d excuse me, I think I’d like to go home.”
Last time she was faced with grief, I was very young and could not stand up to her. I’m grown now. “No. You’re going to stay here and let me take care of you.”
“That’s sweet, baby. But no. I’m gonna get outta here.”
“But… You shouldn’t be alone, Mommy.”
“Emmy, you know I don’t grieve like that. Now let me go!”
(sigh) One of these days I’d get her to listen to me.
“You two enjoy your last kid-free, silent holiday. You’ll thank me later.”
