21
“WINTER IS COMING SOON,” Momma says. She’s wearing her favorite fall jacket, one she’s had for years, outdated and frayed at the cuffs. She’s also wearing the colorful scarf I gave her last Christmas.
The air is chilly tonight, and there’s an unforgiving wind, hinting at more cold to come. “I think you’re right.”
Despite the cold, it’s nice to walk with Momma, just like old times. We used to love to walk the neighbourhood this time of year and look at all the neighboring homes, decorated for Halloween; pumpkins, scarecrows, skeletons and witches. Each one of us would pick our favorite homes. “Do you still make those cookies for Halloween?” I ask. Back in the day, a long time ago, when everyone used to know everyone, Momma used to make cookies, tuck them in small Halloween bags, and hand them out. Everyone loved my Momma’s cookies.
She shakes her head. “No, I stopped that years ago. You can’t do that these days.” she says, her words laced with sarcasm. “Who knows what you might hide in there.”
“True,” I say. “You are pretty evil. I could totally see you poisoning all the kids in the neighbourhood.”
She cracks up, that hearty chuckle I love so much; the kind of laughter that makes people turn around and want in on the joke. Her laughter fades as we keep walking.
We fall into silence and simply appreciate our surroundings. I can’t remember the last time I just walked, with no destination in mind, and just enjoyed the sights.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Maeve,” she finally says. “I don’t say it because I don’t want you to feel guilty, but I miss you so much.”
My heart warms. “I know you miss me, Momma,” I tell her. “I miss you too… so much.”
We forge ahead quietly, down the tree topped street. Dead leaves line the road; patches of orange, red, and yellow dot the ground. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited more often, Momma.”
She smiles at me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you’re very busy.”
I stare straight ahead, not quite able to look at her in the eye. “I’m sorry I left.”
I don’t need to say more. She knows exactly what I’m talking about, the day I abandoned my whole family in search of a new life, a new identity. The day I decided to become someone else, someone my own family didn’t recognize at times. Blake was right… I’ve changed. And I’m not sure the change was for the best.
“I understood, Maeve,” Momma tells me. “We all did. It was a horrible time. I think we all wanted to run away, away from the pain. I couldn’t run away… I had kids to look after. Tim was still young, and he had nowhere to turn to either. And Marilyn… she had Brian, thankfully.”
That familiar ache sticks in my throat and threatens to break me in pieces. “You were probably hurting the most… I should have stayed with you.”
Momma suddenly stops walking, and I turn on my heel to face her. Her eyes are brimming. “You know what a mother wants the most in life, Maeve?” she asks, her words cracked at the edges.
I stand still, speechless.
“She wants her children’s happiness,” she tells me. “Trust me, you’ll understand when you have little ones of your own.”
I smile down at her. In my heeled boots, I’m about four inches taller than her.
“I was glad you could run away, sweetie,” she goes on. “I was happy you had somewhere to run to.” A tear escapes and slides down her cheek. She catches it with the tip of her gloved finger. “I just wanted you to be happy. It’s all I ever wanted for all my children.”
“We were, Momma,” I assure her. “We were.”
We resume walking. “How is Tim these days?” I ask. “I’ve barely had a chance to talk to him.”
She smiles. “He’s doing all right, still obsessed with cars.”
“I’d forgotten how much I love this place,” I tell her. A young woman with a stroller walks by and shoots us a friendly smile. Her little girl is grinning widely – she’s a happy camper. “These past few days have been amazing.” Blake suddenly comes to mind. I blush and stifle a smile.
Momma raises a brow. “You and Blake have been spending a lot of time together,” she points out in a sing-song voice. I know exactly what she’s getting at, and she’s obviously spot-on. Momma is no idiot.
“Well, Marilyn keeps throwing us together.”
She laughs. “I’m not sure if it’s her or Maddie. I’m afraid little Maddie is trying to play matchmaker.”
I smile. “That’s cute, but I doubt she’ll be successful. Blake and I just don’t mix.” A little voice in my head tells me that we mix pretty well together.
Momma shakes her head. “Why would you want to get along all the time?” she says. “That’s boring. Your daddy and I used to fight all the time, but we loved each other like crazy.”
