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THE STILL OF THE NIGHT WHEN THE MOON FLOWER BLOOMS

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Late one night I received a call from my mother’s next-door neighbor, Amanda Cummings. I remember it so well it was late, nearly eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night. I was just getting out of the bathtub when I heard the phone ringing. I let it ring. I mean who wants to talk to anyone at 11:00 PM. I don’t. It’s either a wrong number or bad news. Let’s face it no one wants to hear bad news right before they go to bed.

NIGHT GARDEN

I figure after the phone rang four or five times most people would give up. But not this late-night call. They let it ring ten times because that is when I picked up the phone. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. And I said out loud to no one in particular. “this better be good because it’s 11:00 and I was just getting ready for bed.” I pick up the phone, “Hello?”

“I apologize for calling so late, this is Amanda Cummings.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know any Amanda Cummings. I’m tired can you please tell me why you’re calling. I have to go to work in the morning.”

“I’m your mother’s next-door neighbor and a good friend of hers. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you but I couldn’t find a recent phone number. I finally got in touch with an old school friend of yours, Sara Rice. Luckily, she has kept in contact with you and had your home phone number.”

“OK, so what’s the problem, does my mother need to be bailed out of jail? If so, you called the wrong person I’m not doing that anymore. I can’t handle her drinking and self-destructive lifestyle anymore. I made that clear the last time I spoke to her over ten years ago. I told her not to contact me ever again. I meant it.”

NIGHT GARDEN

There was a moment of silence and I could hear her take a deep breath. “No, it’s nothing like that. I have some difficult news for you. She took another deep breath and then sighed. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your mother passed away several days ago, unexpectantly.”

“She passed away, what are you talking about she wasn’t even sixty years old yet?”

“It appears as if she had a stroke, apparently she had high blood pressure. Anyway, we held off holding the funereal and the services until we could get ahold of you. And as I said that took several days. Do you believe you’ll be able to make it to the services in two days?”

“No, I mean yes. Of course, I will make it home. I will have to speak to my boss in the morning and take leave for a few days. She is my mother after all, even though we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“Do you know of any other relatives that would want to attend the services?”

“Honestly, I don’t. My mother was an only child. So, there were no cousins I knew of. My grandparents passed away years ago. And as I said, she had a drinking problem and if she had any relatives, they lost contact a long, long time ago. I guess I’m the only family. I suppose it will be a small service considering my mother’s addiction issues.”

“Actually, your mother has or had a large group of friends, she was involved in many community services and she volunteered at the grade school as an aide. She ran a kitchen that fed the needy in our community lunch and dinner for the last eight years. And then, of course, there was the community garden. She started it and trained all the volunteers and that is where the kitchen got all the fruits and vegetables. And then of course there was her personal garden. Oh, how she loved to work in her garden. Every year people took tours of the town’s most beautiful gardens. And hers was always on the list of most requested.”

“Wait a minute are you sure you are talking about my mother, friends, community services, and volunteer with kids? And also gardening, you must be mistaken?”

“No, I’m not mistaken. After your mother stopped drinking, she became well, a whole new person. Or perhaps the person she was always meant to be. She is, I mean was one of the kindest, most generous women, I ever met. I can’t tell you how much she will be missed. Not just by me, but everyone in town.”

“Well, that doesn’t even sound like the woman I knew or the mother I had. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I wish that woman was around for all the years I grew up alone, afraid, and often hungry. But as I said I will be there for the services. I will call you back tomorrow after I speak to my boss. Can you give me your cell phone number? Oh, this is your cell phone number. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

MOON LILY

Two days later I was in my car and on my way home to attend my mother’s funereal services. I felt numb, it all just seemed unreal. I stopped thinking about my mother ten years ago the last time I saw her. I bailed her out of jail and yet another drunken-driving accident, where a passenger in her car was seriously injured. I told her to lose my phone number I never wanted to hear from her or see her again. My whole life growing up was one catastrophe after another. Having my mother in my life was an invitation to a life of chaos and stress.

Over time I just stopped talking to her. I have no good memories to reminisce about. All my memories were painful to contemplate. All of them, I didn’t have a single good memory. And now I never would. I wish she had contacted me after she got sober. Maybe she was afraid she would relapse, I don’t know. But I can’t go back in time. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive to my mother’s house. I got a late start because I had to go to my office and tie up some loose ends. It was dark when I arrived.

When I pulled up to the curb in front of her house, I saw a light in the kitchen but the rest of the house was dark. As I opened the car door and step out, I took a deep breath. My memories of this house and the years that I spent there were not good ones. An absentee father and my mother who was there physically but her mind and her spirit were absent.

I was a lonely child. I was afraid to ask friends to come to my house. I couldn’t let them see the condition my mother was in or the downright filth we lived in. The kids and the adults would point at me when they saw me and shake their heads. No one ever reached out to me. No one tried to help me or ask me if I was hungry. Not even my teachers and they must have known something bad was happening in my home. My clothes and hair were always dirty. There were winters when I didn’t have a coat that fit me. I never had lunch money. I was often hungry. No one ever asks me if I was alright.

I pull into the driveway. I left my suitcase in the car. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay in the house. I steeled myself for the possible nightmare I was about to enter. As I walk up the sidewalk, I notice that the sidewalk is spotless. The grass looks as if had been cut recently. There weren’t piles of unread newspapers strewn across the yard. There was a light shining next to the front door which wasn’t decorated by spiderwebs that I remembered as a child. I took a deep breath.

I knock at the door. No answer. I take my cell phone out of my purse and called Amanda Cummings. She answers on the first ring. “Hello Rebecca, where are you?”

“I’m at my mother’s door as we speak. Can you come over?”

“Alright, I’ll be right there. I just have to throw my robe and slippers on.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I look up at the sky as I wait for Amanda. It’s a clear night and the night sky is generously sprinkled with luminous stars. The night sky always had a calming effect on me. As a child, I used to sneak out of my room at night and sit in the back yard and say “twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder what you are? Up above the world so high Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, Twinkle little star, How I wonder what you are.” Every night I wished that my mother would be like all my friend’s mothers and that I had a father that would tuck me into bed at night and tell me, I love you, Becky. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.

But my wish never came true. My mother never became the perfect mother that I dreamed she should be and my father. Well, my father never appeared at my bed and told me I was such a wonderful daughter and how much he loved me.

I felt even more alone now, an orphan at thirty-five. And at that moment, I heard a voice behind me say, “Rebecca, it’s me Amanda I didn’t want to startle you. Would you like to go to the house? Are you planning on staying here? “

“Staying here, oh I don’t think so. I made a reservation at a nearby hotel.”

“Oh, well I understand, I just wanted to meet you and give you the information about the funereal and the wake. I hope this doesn’t further upset you but your mother left instructions in her will that she wanted the wake to be held here at the house the day of the funeral after dark in the back yard.”

“At night in the backyard? Well, isn’t that out of the ordinary? I thought most people have the wake after the funeral at a restaurant or a close friend’s house?”

“That’s true Rebecca but as I said this was a special request by your mother and I promised I would fulfill her final wish. I think you will better understand why at the time of the wake. I’m not trying to mysterious, but as I said I’m trying to fulfill her final wish.”

“OK, no problem I’ll text you the name of my hotel. If there is anything I’m supposed to do before then?”

“No, but your mother did ask if you would speak at the funeral.”

“What? No way. I can’t possibly do that. What would I say, I had a terrible childhood? And I have no good memories. She was the worst kind of mother.”

“Well, no, of course not. But don’t you have even one good memory of her that you would like to share?”

“I’ll try and think of one, but if I have any good memories, they are few and far between them. I’ll let you know if any come to mind.”

“OK, I’ll give you a call tomorrow afternoon with any updates. If I can do anything for you, please let me know. I know I’m a stranger to you, but I would like to say something to you.

Your mother and I have been close friends for many years. She was a woman who struggled to gain her sobriety. And once she did, she talked about you every time I saw her. She told me she was a terrible mother and you had every right not to ever want to see her again. But she loved you very much and she wanted to reach out to you. But kept her promise to you to leave you alone. And the reason was that she had broken every other promise she made to you and didn’t want to break the last promise she made.”

Rebecca tried not to allow any emotion to show. She promised herself she would not shed one tear for her mother. “Oh, alright I’ll talk to you tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I want to go to the hotel to get something to eat, take a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be another long day.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. But if you change your mind, or I can help you in any way, let me know.”
Rebecca said, “alright good night I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thank you for all that you are doing. You have obviously been a faithful friend to my mother.”

“Good night then, drive carefully.”

When Rebecca arrives at the hotel, she checks in and brings her suitcase up to the room. And she freshens up and takes the elevator down to the dining room and orders a hamburger and fries. It’s her go-to meal when she was stressed out. She knows it’s unhealthy but it’s the one unhealthy thing she eats. And it calms her down for some reason.

As she was sitting there eating her last fry, she had a sudden rush of memory. She was young perhaps six or seven and she was in a Mcdonald’s eating a hamburger and French fries and her smiling mother was sitting across from her eating the adult version of burger and fries. Her mother used to take her out on Friday night and they would eat at McDonald’s. How could she have forgotten that? A tear slowly descended her face down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

It was the first time in years that she thought of her mother in any other way than a negligent alcoholic mother. What else had she forgotten about her?

The next morning, she texted Amanda and told her she changed her mind and wanted to say a few words about her mother after all. Amanda was surprised but pleased.  “Oh, that is good news I know your mother would love that. She lived with such guilt about you and your childhood.”

The service at the church was short. The minister spoke about her mother in glowing terms saying how she had fought so hard to get sober and stay sober and of all the people who she had helped to stop drinking. And the years following when she worked tirelessly at the school, within the community, and in the community garden. How later in life she became a model citizen and an example to all that is possible to turn your life around if you make a commitment to do so. Even though it continued to be a struggle throughout your life.

Many people came up to speak about their experiences with her mother. Each of them explained how they had struggled with addiction and how she supported them and helped them go into recovery. She was always willing to come out and help them no matter the time of day or if she had previous plans.

Amanda wished that she had the opportunity to get to know the woman that her mother had ultimately become. She knew it was too late now but still she felt proud of her mother for overcoming adversity and moving to the other side. She was glad she had made the decision to come here to her funeral. She felt it was a deeply healing experience for her.

After the service, many people came up to her and shook her hand, and told her how wonderful her mother was to them. How kind and generous with her time and energy. Amanda came over to her and hugged her. “Please Rebecca come to your mother’s house this evening at about 7:45. Go to the back yard I promise you that you will not regret it. “

“Alright, I will I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning so I can’t stay late. I’ll see you then.”

When it was almost time to go to her mother’s house Rebecca started to have cold feet. It had been so long since she had been inside her childhood home. There were so many bad memories there. At the last moment, she decided that she needed to let go of those bad memories and replace them with good memories she didn’t know what she would see in her mother’s garden at night. But she wanted to go see it.

Perhaps she would be able to find some peace now if she let go of her anger at her mother and forgave her. And try to accept that her mother had flaws and made some big mistakes but she had turned her life around and apparently did a great deal of good in the last years of her life. And so, she changed her clothes and drove to her mother’s house. She expected to see a lot of cars and many people but the only person she saw was Amanda.

“Oh, Rebecca I’m so happy you came. Let’s go over to the back gate I want to turn on some lights so you can see all the beauty that your mother created, not just in growing fruits and vegetables for all the hungry people in the area. But it creating a peaceful place for people to come and relax and enjoy the quiet and the beauty. Come on I know that you will just love it.”

“Alright, I can’t imagine what there is to see in the dark in her backyard. But I’m curious that is for sure. Let’s go.” Rebecca followed Amanda to the back gate. It was pitch black. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her. And then Amanda opens the gate and switched on some small twinkling lights and they walked through the gate and into something magical.

It was a garden of night-blooming plants lit up by twinkling lights with paths that ran from one end of the garden to another with connecting paths. It was so beautiful it was truly something breathtaking. Rebecca was overwhelmed by what she saw. The aroma was amazing. Tears ran down her cheeks and Rebecca was smiling and crying at the same time. In front of her was a sign that said, REBECCA’S NIGHT GARDEN. Created with love.

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Unexpected Surprises Often Come in Small Packages

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I was just about to step into the shower when I hear the doorbell ring. I think about ignoring it, since I was already late getting ready for my luncheon date with my old friend Maryanne. Whoever was at the door is persistent and keeps pushing the doorbell over and over again.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I say to no one in particular.

Antique pocket watch- photo by Bob Culver

I grab my ancient chenille robe. It’s tattered and torn and stained in places. But it used to belong to my mother. I consider it a family heirloom. And I throw it on, tying it tightly around my waist. I push my feet roughly into my slippers that are also tattered and stained.

I take the steps two at a time. My left slipper comes off my foot and goes careening down the remaining steps. I almost go careening after them. But catch myself at the last minute when I manage to grab the rickety railing.

I can see through the four small windows in the door that the delivery guy is turning and about to leave. I jump down onto the floor at the bottom of the steps and all but pull the door off its hinges in an effort to open the door before he drives away.

The delivery guy has just turned his back on the door and is quick-stepping back to his delivery truck. I start screaming at the top of my lungs, and vigorously waving my arms back and forth.

“Hey buddy, wait, wait I’m here. I was in the bathroom upstairs.” When he turns around, he looks at me as if I’m a mirage or something. As if he can’t believe his eyes. I look down to see what he’s staring at and I realize that my robe has come untied and is flapping in the wind. Unfortunately, last night it was unbearably hot in my bedroom and I slept in the nude.

And that is when I notice my nosy neighbor, Cynthia is walking her dog, Alfred past my house. “Shit. Sorry, Cynthia. Sorry, sorry.” And I pull my robe together and retie the belt.

Cynthia’s face is bright red, she doesn’t say a word. But she keeps staring at me like I’m from another planet. Then she starts shaking her head vigorously from right to left. Alfred barks at me in a somewhat friendlier tone and off they go for their morning constitutional.

By then the delivery guy has made his way back to my doorstep. And he wears an expression on his face that can only be described as wolfish. All his teeth are showing and his eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head. He leans towards me and I lean back. “Take it, easy lady, I just need you to sign this clipboard and I’ll be on my way.”

I grab the clipboard and the pen that’s hanging off of it and scribble my signature. And then I stick out my hand and he hands me a package that’s about the size of a napkin. “Thank you”, I say as I’m about to turn around and close the door.

He waits for a moment. I guess he thinks he might get a tip. But he isn’t going to get one from me today. I turn around and walk as nonchalantly as I can muster up. As if I didn’t just flash everyone that happen to be on the street this morning. I take my mother’s advice for once. She often said, “when you make a fool out of yourself just keep moving forward and don’t look back.” And that is exactly what I did, let it go and walk through my front door like it was any other day. And I forget about it.

When I get into my house, I firmly close the door and put the chain across it. And walk through the living room into my tiny kitchen. I put the small package on the kitchen counter and turn on the coffee pot. I open the refrigerator door and gaze inside. There isn’t much, I haven’t gone food shopping in two weeks and the cupboard is almost bare. I find a slightly stale piece of rye bread and stick it in the toaster and find I still had a dab of peanut butter in my giant economy size of Chunky Peanut Butter. I practically live on peanut butter; I like it with bananas but I don’t have any left.

I pour the coffee into my favorite mug, it used to belong to my Aunt Merry, which is short for Marilyn. It’s huge, yellow and round with a smiling face. In fact, it was called the Smiley Face Mug. She gave it to me when I moved to the city. It’s from the 1970s. And it is one of the few things I treasure in life. Because it reminds me of all the time I spent every summer with her when I was a kid. She lived within walking distance to the beach. And she grew all her own vegetables in her little garden.  We would take long walks across the beach and collect shells and stones. I still have some of the shells somewhere in a box in the back of my closet. Most of my childhood memories that I cherish are from the time I spent with my Aunt Merry.  I should have visited her more often.

My mom called me a couple of weeks ago and told me that my Aunt Merry quietly passed away in her sleep. That’s so like her, never wanted to cause anyone any trouble or worry. I should have gone to her funeral, but I didn’t because I didn’t have the money for a round trip bus ticket home. And my mother drinks up all her money. She didn’t even let me know until the day before the funeral.

I finish the last of my coffee and pick up the small package and I realize the return address is my mom’s. “Wow,” I say out loud. My mother never sends me anything. Occasionally she calls me and asks for money. And when I have any, I send it to her. She’s still my mother after all. And she did raise me all alone. And I guess she did the best she could. I should probably visit my mother more too. She’s no longer young. And I don’t know how much time she has left.

I make up my mind that I’m definitely going to go visit my mother, sometime soon. I start tearing the brown paper off the small package and then I shake it. Something is rattling inside. When I open the box, I see something that looks like gold. I pull it out and inside I see a pocket watch on a long, gold chain. I pick it up and look at it closely. It has flowers engraved on the back and my Aunt Merry’s initials and the year 1969. The year she graduated from high school. I remember seeing it in her jewelry box in her house down at the beach. She used to say, “someday this pocket watch will be yours. And it will remind you of all the good times we had together here at the beach.”

I feel a tear run down my cheek and more follow. I start crying and as I realize all the time that I could have spent with my Aunt Merry and I didn’t. I always made excuses not to go. I don’t know why. I put the pocket watch around my neck and go over to the mirror next to the front door and look at myself. As I stand there with the tears running down my face, I see my Aunt’s smiling face looking back at me.

As I’m standing there looking at myself the phone rings. I slowly walk over to the phone and pick it up. “Hello, Kathleen, it’s mom.”

“Yes Mom, I recognize your phone number. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, why did you hear something?”

“No, Mom I didn’t hear anything, you don’t call me often and when you do, it’s usually bad news.”

“Oh, Kathleen, you have always been so overly dramatic. I just called to see if you got the package, I sent you?”

“Yes, Mom, it was just delivered. I always loved that watch. Aunt Merry always promised me she would leave to me when she passed. I’ll cherish it.”

“Yes, she really did love you, Kathleen. I wished you had come and visited her more often you were her favorite niece.”

“You’re right Mom, I should have visited her more. In fact, I was just thinking that I haven’t seen you in quite a while. And I have a few vacation days left that I have to use up by the end of the year. So, how about if I come to see you at the end of next week.”

“Really, Kathleen? I would just love that.”

“Ok, Mom I have a lunch date with one of my friends and I have to get a shower and get dressed and drive across town. I’ll call you next week and let you know the details. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Kathleen.”

“Bye, Mom talk to you soon.”

As Kathleen hangs up the phone, she realizes that her Aunt Merry gave her a special gift and that was the realization that life is short. And you have to let the people you love know that you love them.

Kathleen takes the steps two at a time and gets ready to go out and meet her friend for lunch. Her heart felt light. And she hasn’t felt this good in years. It’s going to be a good day.

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TOMORROW

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When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me every day that tomorrow may never come, enjoy today. I wasn’t sure what she meant, and I was afraid to ask? Perhaps she knew something that I didn’t know. Did I have some sort of terminal illness that I didn’t know about? Can she see into the future, and knows I’m going to die in some sort of horrible accident? I was a shy and nervous child.

Little girl eating ice cream -Pixelbay by Lucas

I ‘m preoccupied with worrying about what terrible event might take place tomorrow. I’m easily startled. If someone comes up behind me and says boo, I ‘ll jump and shake and then scream at the top of my lungs. After the kids at school found out how I was easily startled, they would sneak up behind me at least once a day and yell boo. And then all of my classmates would all start laughing. After a while, I didn’t want to go to school anymore.

My mother made me go to school. She comes into my bedroom and kneels down next to my bed and whispers, “Darlene, it’s time to wake up for school. You don’t want to be late, do you? If I don’t wake up right away, she starts tapping my shoulder, “Darlene, Darlene, wake up, wake up.” You’re going to be late.” Her final attempt, she yells as loud as she can,” DARLENE, GET UP, NOW.”

I jump out of bed, and then she whispers, “Enjoy your day, Darlene, tomorrow may never come.”

I started having difficulty sleeping because I don’t want my mother to come into my room and waking me up. I’m so tired of not sleeping. I have an even more difficult time waking up. And when I do wake up, I worry about what’s going to happen to me. It’s all I can think about. Will I get hit by a car, run over by a bus, trampled by the boy’s football team if I didn’t get off the field fast enough, or choke to death on a hotdog. The possibilities are endless.

I’m failing all my classes in school. I’m so exhausted from not sleeping at night that I fall asleep at my desk. My teacher sends me to the school nurse several times a week. She’s a kind woman. She lets me lie down on the cot in her office, and says, “Darlene, can you tell me what’s going on at home? Is someone hurting you?”

“No, Mrs. Pritchett no one is hurting me. I have trouble falling asleep. Sometimes, I fall asleep but I can’t stay asleep. Sometimes, when I do fall asleep, I have terrible nightmares. I wake up crying, and then I don’t want to go to sleep because of the nightmares. “

“What does your mother say about this problem?”

“She tells me to take a hot bath before I go to sleep. She thinks that might help me relax. But sometimes I fall asleep in the tub. One time I woke up and my head was under the water. Then I was afraid that I would drown in the tub, and I told my mother, “I only want to take showers from now on.”

She said, “Oh, Darlene, that’s silly. You’re not going to drown in the tub. But if it will make you feel better you can just take a shower.”

“Darlene, did your mother take you to the doctors for a check-up?”

“Yes, she took me to Dr. Hartman. He took my temperature, and weighed me, and listen to my heart. He said, “everything seems fine. Do you have any pain anywhere?”

I said, “No, I don’t have any pain. I can’t fall asleep, that’s all.”

He gave my mother a paper that said I should start taking vitamins since I was a little underweight. And he wants me to start eating better. Then he went into the other room with my mother and talked to her alone.

When my mother and I left she said, “Darlene, why don’t we stop at Friendly’s and get some ice cream we haven’t done anything fun for a long time. Would you like that?”

“Sure Mom. But I’m not that hungry.”

“Oh, come on, Darlene live a little, you only live once. Let’s enjoy today, tomorrow may never come.”

“After she said that, I lost my appetite. I thought the doctor might have told her some bad news. Then we went to the ice cream parlor. My mother got a root beer float with vanilla ice cream and all the toppings. I wasn’t hungry anymore, but my mother insisted on me at least eating a scoop. She said,” come on live it up, Darlene, how about some chocolate too or whipped cream on top.”

“Ok, Mom.” As we sit there eating, I look at my mother. And sure, enough she’s eating like there’s no tomorrow. Really shoving it in fast. I keep staring at her. Finally, she says, “Darlene, it’s  impolite to stare at someone who eating.”

“Oh, sorry mom. Can I ask you a question?”

“A question, of course, you can ask me anything.”

“Did the doctor say I was sick or if anything is wrong with me?”

“Wrong with you? No, he said physically, you are fine. He thinks you are a little high strung that’s all. And you need to eat better and get more sleep.”

“High Strung? What does that mean?”

“Oh, it just means you seem nervous, that’s all. I told him that it was ridiculous that you are a normal kid who has trouble sleeping. He seems to think that having trouble sleeping indicates that something is bothering you.”

My mother looks at me for a moment after she says, “Darlene, is something bothering you? You can tell me anything. You know that, don’t you?

I don’t know if I can tell my mother why I can’t sleep or about how the kids tortured me in school. And I’m really afraid of what she might say. Am I going to die suddenly? Is something terrible going to happen today or tomorrow?”

After we left the ice cream parlor, my mother said, “how about if this Saturday, we do something fun? Is there anything that you would like to do, Darlene?”

“Fun, like what Mom?”

“What would you like to do, Darlene? We could go to the movies or the petting zoo, or we could ride bikes around the park, what do you say? Do you have anything you would like to do, Darlene, anything at all?”

“Well, I don’t know. I guess it would be fun to go out to lunch and then go to the movies on Saturday afternoon. You haven’t taken me to the movies since I was a little kid. I would really love to see the Dark Knight Trilogy. I hear the kids at school talking about it all the time. It just came into the theaters about a week ago. And we could get popcorn and candy and sodas. I would   really love to do that.”

“Well, Superheroes are not really my thing. But who knows, maybe I’ll enjoy it? But maybe you would rather see that with your friends?”

Darlene stares at her mother and wonders how she could be so clueless about her. “Mom, do you know any of my friends? Did anyone ever come over to play or just spend time with me? “

“Well, Darlene, I can’t say when I remember the last time you had some of your friends over. Why don’t you ask them to come over?”

Darlene looks at her mother with her mouth open, nothing comes out. She starts feeling extremely angry at her mother. She doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Her mother stands there and stares at her. Suddenly, Darlene yells out as loud as she can, “Why, why don’t I ask my friends over. Because Mother, I don’t have any friends. And I never have. Why didn’t you ever ask me before where all my friends were? The kids at school hate me. They think I’m weird. The teachers hate me too. Everyone hates me. Because I’m weird. You hardly even talk to me, and you’re my mother.”

“Of course, you have friends Darlene. Why are you always so overdramatic?”

“No, no, no. I don’t have friends, no one at school likes me.”

“Why do they think you’re weird?”

“Because I am weird. I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid I might get a horrible illness, like cancer, and die. I’m afraid of crossing the street. I could get hit by a Mack Truck. I’m afraid I will live my whole life, and nobody will love me or even like me. And you know why mother, do you know why?”

Darlene’s mother looks at her and says,” No, I don’t where do you get all these crazy ideas anyway. It’s nonsense. And Darlene, I do love you with my whole heart. I want nothing but the best for you.”

“Mom, you never tell me you love me. You never tell me how smart I am, or how pretty or how kind. The only thing you say to me every day when I get up is, enjoy your day, Darlene, tomorrow may never come.”

“Oh, Darlene, I say that because I want you to make the most of every day of your life. I never had any idea that might make you think you were going to die, or that something horrible was going to happen to you. I’m so sorry I don’t tell you I love you, or that your pretty and smart. Because I do love you with my whole heart. I want nothing but good things in life to come your way. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize how sad and lonely you are. But I’m happy that you were finally able to tell me how you feel. How about we start with a little hug.” Darlene’s mother puts her arms out for Darlene.

Darlene hesitates momentarily and then steps into her mother’s arms for the first hug she has had in years. Tears start rolling down her face. And then she realizes that her mother is crying too. And they hug one another. “I love you too, Mom.”

They stay like that for a long time. And then Darlene’s mother says,” How about we start every day and end every day with a hug, Darlene?”

“Yes, Mom, I would love that. And then you can just say,” Good Morning, or Good Night.”

“Ok Mom, let’s go home now, I’m tired maybe I could take a little nap. And dream bout going to the movies tomorrow.”

“Ok, Darlene why don’t we head out. This is the best day I’ve had in a long time; I love you, Darlene, with all my heart.”

Darlene looks at her mom, and says,” I love you too mom, let’s go home now.” And the two of then set off on their walk home hand in hand.

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Daddy Liked To Clean House

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I rooted through my drawer, moving things aside, throwing stuff on the floor. It was no use it just wasn’t there. I kept hoping it was in there, but it just wasn’t. I searched the entire house after my parents went out for their weekly food shopping.

I went so far as to look in my fathers’ cabinets in the basement. He had strictly forbidden snooping. I had to be cautious when I looked in these drawers because he was very careful where he put things away. He remembered exactly how he left them and could tell if anyone had been in there.

Photo by Hugh Carberry 1958

Susan Carberry First Communion-

I was equally as careful. I memorized how each object was placed and in what order. I had years of experience, so I was very good at it. So far, my intrusion into his inner sanctum had never been detected. In desperation, I looked in his secret stash in his desk drawer under his Playboy magazines. It was nowhere. It was gone.

I would have to innocently question my mother to see if she knew the whereabouts of my most precious collection. It had taken me years to amass. And now, now it was gone. I prayed it hadn’t gone the way of all my other beloved treasures, removed, and never to be seen again.

It all began innocently enough. One year in the early Spring I decided to plant some Zinnia seeds in the front yard. In front of the white, wooden fence my father had built years ago. Well, he never finished it. He had completed the front section that faced Fellowship Road, it had no sides.

Kids in the neighborhood often made obnoxious remarks about how come you only got half a fence, your father is too lazy to finish it, or too poor to buy more wood. Maybe all or part of that was true, but it didn’t have anything to do with me.

Anyway, I digress. I bought the seeds at the Ben Franklin 5 & 10 Store down the pike on Main Street in Maple Shade where I live. It was marked down to five cents. I used my own money. I rarely had any money so I was careful about what I invested it in. I usually spent any money I acquired on candy.

The illustration on the packet was beautiful, colorful Zinnias of red, yellow, and orange. I loved the flowers. We only had two plants in our front yard, one was a bush we called the Communion Bush, but now I know it’s called a Spirea. When someone in the family made their First Holy Communion, which was a big deal in an Irish Catholic family, we had our picture taken in front of this white-flowering bush.

The only other bush was my mother’s lilac bush that grew next to the front sidewalk.  It was my mother’s pride and joy. It was wonderfully aromatic. The harbinger of Spring in our house was the lilac blooming in early May. She would cut branches from it and put them in her crystal vase in the center of the kitchen table.

When my older brother, Harry came over on Sunday morning to visit my mother, he would cut a bunch. He would give it to his wife, Maryann for her Sunday dinner table.

Every day when I came home from school, I checked on my zinnias to see how much they had grown if they looked thirsty. I would drag out the hose and give them a drink. Oh, and how they grew tall, reaching almost to the sky, wonderfully bright and cheerful. I was so proud that I had created this wonderful oasis of color in our otherwise boring yard of dandelions, and buttercups, and the occasional clump of grass.

As the summer was in full bloom, so were my zinnias. I smiled every time I spied them from the kitchen window. Then one day I came home from playing with the kids in the neighborhood. And as I rode my bike towards my house, I noticed something looked different. Then it hit me. My lovely zinnias were no longer there. And in their place was a long strip of dirt, decorated by small pieces of mowed down flower petals and leaves. I stared in utter disbelief.

I ran into the house and howled at my mother, “where, are my flowers mom? My zinnias are all gone.

She looked up at me and said, “I’m sorry Susan. Your father cut them down when he cut the grass today.” There was no point in confronting my dad about things like this. He never offered any explanation. He might simply answer, it’s my yard to do as I wish, or girls shouldn’t be doing work in the yard. That’s a man’s job.

I stopped playing with my dolls when I was about twelve years old. My mother put them away for safekeeping in her room, in the storage space above her clothes closet. I had two dolls. One was a collector’s edition of Shirley Temple. She was dressed in an authentic Scottish kilt, and military-style jacket and tan beret with a red feather. She wore woolen knee-high socks and patent leather shoes. Her hair was dark blond and had perfect ringlets. I had her for many years, but she was in perfect condition. I kept her and her clothes in a miniature white trunk. That had a special space for her on one side, and on the other side was a place to hang her change of clothes.

My other doll was older, she was a baby doll called Betsy Wetsy. You fed her with a little bottle that you could fill with tap water. And then she would pee in her baby doll diaper, just like a real baby, except she did it as you were feeding her.

My mother kept these dolls for me for a long time in her closet. Perhaps hoping that someday I would have my own little girls who would like to see, and play with their mom’s childhood dolls.

One day when I was sitting on my mother’s bed, she was looking in her storage area for her hat, which she kept in a hatbox. I noticed that my doll trunk and Betsy Westsy were no longer there. ‘Mom where are my dolls?” I felt a sense of dread.

“I don’t know Susie.” She answered. But she wouldn’t look at me, she had her head down. But I knew, I knew my father had taken them away.

After that, I tried not to let myself get too attached to things.  But then I discovered my special collection of autographs of TV actors, was gone as well. I had kept them hidden under my twin bed. This really made a great big empty spot in my heart.

My best friend, Joanie, and I had shared this hobby for most of our childhood years. We spent many a summer’s afternoons sitting in her screened-in back porch. We wrote long letters of our undying love for the stars of our favorite TV shows, requesting autographed pictures.

Our favorites were Western’s like Gunsmoke. I was secretly in love with James Arness.  And then there was Wagon Train, and Have Gun Will Travel, and of course Bonanza. My favorite show of all time was Dobie Gillis, who I thought was the coolest. Because he was a beatnik that frequented coffee houses, and listen to obscure poetry, and snapped his fingers instead of clapping.

Even now sixty-plus years later it’s hard to fathom what motivated my father to abscond with not just my childhood playthings, but my memories as well.