“Love you, Son. See you soon.”
“Love you more.”
Thirty minutes later, I pulled up at my parents’ house. They were in their late sixties. My father was an attorney, and my mother, a stay-at-home mom.
“Knock, knock!” I shouted after letting myself in through the garage.
“Good to see you, Son. Your mother tells me you’re treating us to breakfast.”
My father was seated at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, something he’d done since I was a child. Oddly enough, Black Elm no longer had a newspaper delivery service, so he picked up a copy each morning while they were on their morning walk.
“It’s always good to see you, old man. Your wife tricked me into taking y’all to breakfast, but you know I don’t mind.”
I leaned down and kissed him on his bald head, something my brother and I started doing when we grew to be almost a foot taller than him.
“You’d better not mind, as many times as I’ve fed you since you came home. I’m ready,” Ma said when she entered the kitchen.
I kissed her cheek, then draped my arm over her shoulders. My mother was my heart. Actually, both my parents were. I owed everything I was to them.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Black Elm Bistro,” Ma responded.
“Sounds good to me.”
In the car, my mother insisted on sitting in the back seat so my father and I could talk. I didn’t know why it mattered because she gave her two cents every few minutes anyway. When we arrived, we were seated quickly and immediately viewed the menu.
“So, a little birdie told me you’re seeing someone,” Ma said after the server brought our drinks and took our order.
“Oh, I see now. That’s what this is about. You want information.”
“No, I wanted a free breakfast and a little of my son’s time,” she denied with a smile.
“Is it true?” Pops questioned.
“It is.”
“Why haven’t we heard about or met her?”
“She’s cautious, hesitant, scared . . . you name it.”
“Her past?” Pops concluded.
I nodded. “Yeah, but I think I’ve gained her trust. Today is her son’s eleventh birthday, and she’s allowing me to spend the day with him, at his request.”
“She definitely trusts you, unless she’s one of those mothers—” Ma began.
“I assure you she’s not. She’s an amazing mother who doesn’t play about her son. God told me she’s my wife.”
My parents’ eyes ballooned with surprise.
“Bring her and her son over for dinner this Sunday. I can’t wait to meet her.”
My mother’s response wasn’t surprising at all. She’s been waiting for her baby boy to find someone for years.
“You know you shouldn’t have told that to your mother. She’ll have the wedding planned by Sunday,” my father teased.
“At least wait until I propose, Ma. Plus, she’s very close to her mother and sister. They might want to have some input too.”
