Page 15

“Yes, you did tell me, but I wasn’t sure of the dates,” I lie.

The truth is, I’d totally forgotten. Ma travels quite a bit, and I’d need a calendar to keep track of her whereabouts at any given time.

“How was the cruise?”

“Wonderful! The food was amazing, and we only had one little shower in Turks and Caicos, but other than that the weather was perfect. I was able to show off the new wardrobe the girls got me for my birthday.”

Another little dig, given I had remembered her birthday late, and resorted to sending her a bunch of flowers instead of putting in the personal effort my sisters did. It’s a valid point, and given the presence I’m currently in, and the loss she just suffered, it’s one I’m taking to heart. I could and should put a little more effort into giving my mother my time. I always put things like this off—I’ve definitely been slacking since moving here—and if I’ve learned anything, it’s life is unpredictable and I may not get another chance.

Ma still lives independently but in a seniors’ building in Pinehurst, Idaho. About a thirty minute-drive from my sisters. We used to have regular family meals together, but in the last couple of years I often bailed on those, using work as my go-to excuse. It wasn’t a lie, per se, but I could’ve left some things to one of my colleagues or for another day. The truth is, it was hard to deal with what I’m sure was meant as their concern and support. It kept feelings I’d rather store locked away under a thick scar, open and raw. I could’ve said something, but since it was their loss and grief as well, it was simpler just to keep my distance.

Still, avoiding my family doesn’t really alleviate the pain of loss for anyone.

“Glad to hear you had a good time. Are you going to be home for a while or are you off to your next adventure?”

“Not until November. I’m doing the Panama Canal.”

In the last four years, my mother has been traveling all over the place, mostly cruising, but she’s done some bus tours in Europe as well. First, it was with her friend Eliza, but when she no longer was able to travel much due to her health issues, Ma started planning trips with the infamous neighbor. After all the loss my mother suffered and working her butt off her entire life to raise the three of us, mostly by herself, I’m happy she found something she can enjoy.

“I remember you mentioning you wanted to see that. So, you’ll be around next weekend?”

I have the upcoming weekend off and had planned to do a bit of house-hunting. The small apartment I’m in is starting to get to me. It’s old and dated, and I’m not a fan of the thin walls between me and my neighbors. I wouldn’t mind my own place, a bit of a backyard, maybe a view and a driveway to park in.

But all that can wait. Visiting my mother and seeing my sisters and their families may be a better way to spend my time.

“I will,” she replies, barely veiled excitement in her voice. “Are you coming to visit?”

“I was thinking about it, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, mi hijo, nothing would make me more happy. I’ll bake you some empanadas de pino to take home, and it’s been a while since I’ve cooked pastel de choclo. The girls like that too. You’re staying the night here, si?”

I smile at the mention of my favorite Chilean dishes. The empanadas are filled with a weird mix of beef, onions, raisins, a black olive, and an egg, but they taste amazing, and the casserole she’s referring to is familiar comfort food in our family: beef, chicken, onions, and plenty of spices, topped with a layer of corn puree, which is then baked into a crust. I’ve made both myself, but it never quite tastes the same as my mother’s.

“Yes, I’ll come up Saturday morning, and leave again on Sunday.”

It’s only about a two-hour drive from here so I could easily do it in a day, but I know Ma would be disappointed if she couldn’t fuss over me a little.

“¡Buenisimo! I’ll call the girls.”

With that the line goes dead as my mother begins preparations for the return of her prodigal son.

“That was my mother,” I share with Dana, who’s been trying to look like she wasn’t paying attention.

“I gathered as much.”

“She lives in Pinehurst, Idaho,” I inform her as I pick up my knife and tackle the celery. “I also have two older sisters, who live with their families back in Coeur d’Alene, and I’ve been blowing all of them off since moving here.”

Dana lowers her knife and glances over.

“Why?”

I shake my head. “My family is loving but they can get intense. I guess I needed some space, but it’s gone on long enough.”

She tilts her head slightly. “I can tell you from experience; don’t waste any precious time.”

“Yeah, I should know better.”

I can see the question form in her eyes, but mine is a story I’m not ready to share.