Always Beautiful

A few weeks ago, I went out to the ocean. I followed the path that my little dog, Gigi and I use to take. It was exactly a year, since she passed. It had been a hard 12 months accepting that she was really gone. But it was time to throw away my sadness and just remember all the good times we shared. I’ve had many dogs throughout my life, but Gigi was the one that grabbed my heart the most and when she left, a piece of me went with her.

It was a cold, windy, rainy morning. I pulled my coat tight, as I made my way to the shore. I felt tears mix with rain running down my cheeks. I started to walk to the rocks. I noticed that a woman was walking towards me with a little white dog. Our winter coats were almost the same color blue, her hair was a darker grey than mine. The only difference is that she was with a dog and I was alone.  She stopped and started to say something, she must have noticed my tear streaked face. She seemed to understand that sometimes you just have to go to the ocean to cry. As she passed, she said, “The ocean is always beautiful, no matter what.”



Love Re-Written

When I went to visit my mother on her 90th birthday, I found her sitting up in bed looking peacefully out the window. She turned and smiled at me as I crossed the room. I noticed immediately that there was something dramatically different about her. She looked young. Her cheeks were full and pink. Her green eyes seemed to twinkle. Not a line or wrinkle creased her face. She seemed to be in a state of grace.

I kissed her on the cheek and wished her a happy birthday. She told me that she had been waiting for me. I could tell that she was happy to see me. My mother had been happy ever since she told me her secret during our last visit. It appears that my mother had fallen in love a few months ago. She described it as a “May-December” romance and it was a secret. I had to promise that I wouldn’t tell a soul.

The man who my mother had fallen in love with was almost 40 years younger. He worked as a maintenance man at the nursing home, where she had lived for the last five years. To complicate matters, this man was also a relative of the family who owned the facility. My mother said their relationship would be frowned upon by the owners and staff. She wouldn’t even tell me his name.

My mother told me that this was a true love story. It was the kind of love that only comes along once in a lifetime.” She told me that this love affair was so special that I should write about it. She spent the remainder of our visit telling me all about this special man. She talked, I listened. I was happy for her. In real life my mother had not been lucky in love.

As I drove home that night, I made a mental list of all the people who worked at The Pines. I thought I knew most of them. I knew the maintenance man and he was in his 70s and no relation to the owners. It didn’t matter, I knew what would make my mother happy.

I could sense my mother’s impatience as I hung up my coat. When I returned with a vase to put the flowers in, the birthday card was still in her hands unopened. She looked at me with anticipation. I pulled a chair up close to her bed, opened my bag and took out the pages that I had written. My mother had told me the beginning of her story, now I was able to give her an ending:

It was late, almost midnight when he opened the door to her room. She was waiting as planned. She was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing her prettiest dress. She took his hand and they headed for the door. They crept silently down the hallway and out the back door.

Holding her hand tightly in his, he led her into the warm spring night. They headed into the woods, moonlight lighting their way. When they came to the end of the woods they found themselves in a small meadow. My mother walked into the middle of the field and looked up at all the stars in the sky.

As she reached up into the night sky, the stars came down around her, spiraling into twinkling stairs. My mother turned around and looked into the eyes of her true love. Hand in hand, they climbed the stairs to a place where they could be together, forever in love.

The Lunch Date

He asks the hostess for their favorite table. The one off to the side with giant smiling suns carved into the backs of the chairs. She loves this place. Everything is so colorful, like being in the middle of a Mexican fiesta. He helps her with her chair and then sits across from her. He is so tall and rugged, she thinks, so very handsome. She is proud to be with him. A pretty young waitress appears at his side, saying something about being their server and would they like to order drinks.

As she starts to shake her head, no, he pats her hand and says, “Have just one, it won’t hurt.” “Well,” she says, “only one.” It’s the same ritual whenever they come here. She says, “no.” He says, “yes.” She always orders the same drink – the delicious one with salt around the brim and a lime on the side. The waitress leaves to get their drinks. She is happy and nobody else exists, except the two of them. He always makes her feel young, like a teenage girl out on a date. He is the best son ever.

She asks him about work. He asks her if she needs anything. “Where did he get those eyes,” she wonders? “So blue and his hair so thick and curly.” She wonders why he isn’t married. Secretly, she doesn’t mind. For now she doesn’t have to share him.

He asks her what she wants to eat. The same thing as always, she says. He watches as she enjoys her drink. The margarita is in such a tall glass that she practically rises out of her seat to take a sip. He laughs to himself. She was always good to him. After all, she helped him get his first car. He loves his mother very much.

Their meals arrive. He’s already slicing into his chicken burrito. He’s always been a big eater. There was plenty of food in her house. Neither of them wanted for anything. Of course, she couldn’t afford luxuries like the other kids had. It was hard after his father died. She got a job in the shoe factory and they managed to get by. She never remarried. There was one man she did like, but not enough to marry. But, that was a long time ago.

Lunch is almost over. She tries to prolong it. The waitress silently appears and collects the dishes. Yes, they will have another drink. Anything to keep the afternoon from ending, she thinks. He takes her out to eat every three weeks or so. He always comes over if she needs him. He’s very busy, but he always calls her. She never feels easy asking for help. She is lucky to have such a thoughtful son.

He helps her unlock the door. Her trailer is small, but comfortable. He helps her into her favorite chair. The cat jumps up on her lap. He got her a cat so she wouldn’t be alone. She’s sleepy. He leans over and kisses her on the forehead and tells her they’ll do it again real soon. She tells him she loves him as he closes the door. As she starts to nod off, she thinks how lucky she is to have such a good son.

Before my husband’s mother passed away, he would take her out to lunch at her favorite Mexican restaurant. My husband loved his mother very much.