didn't know why I bought them. She wouldn't remember me giving them to her, but she wouldn't remember me coming to visit either. I had to get out of the mentality that it only mattered if she remembered. I remembered, and it was my duty to see her and make sure she was all right. It wasn't fair to leave it all to Mason.
Guilt hit me big time as I climbed the porch stairs and looked at all the new wood that took its place. The house had been painted a pale blue. There were flowers in the yard, and the front door was different.
Mason had done all that?
I stood, staring a hole in that door. What was I going to say to her? Taking a deep breath through my nose, I raised my hand and knocked hard with my knuckles. A middle-aged woman answered the door not five seconds later. I'd never seen her.
For a second I panicked that one of my fears had come to life and they had moved, but I remembered Mason telling me he had hired a nurse for Mamma. This must be her.
"Hi, can I help you?" she inquired, looking at the flowers curiously.
"I'm…" I cleared my throat. I was sure she would know I was the scumbag son who never came to see his mom, but I said it anyway. "I'm Milo. I'm here to see my mother."
That sentence—that one sentence—brought so much guilt on me that I nearly choked.
She smiled tightly and opened the door wider. "Milo. Yes, Mrs. Wright talks about you all the time."
"She does?" I asked before it clicked. Ah, she talks about me because she still thinks I'm a sixteen year old boy living at home with her. "Yeah, uh, how is she doing?"
"In general, medically," she asked with a raised eyebrow, "or just today?"
She was subtly calling me out on not coming to see her. I deserved it. "All of the above." I gulped. "I know I haven't come to see her. I've been…away."
"I've noticed," she said and turned toward the living room. Nothing there had changed. It looked exactly like it did the day I left. "Mrs. Wright, you have a visitor."
"Who are you?" she asked the woman.
"I'm your nurse, Patti," she answered and I gathered every ounce of courage I had. "Your son Milo is here to see you."
I pushed my feet, one in front of the other, and turned the corner to see my mother. She looked older, but good. She looked healthy and well taken care of. "Hey, Mamma."
"Milo," she gasped. "Son, what happened to you?"
I went to her, pulling a chair from the dining room table over in front of her, and placed the flowers on the table next to her. The nurse took them and said she'd put them in water for her. Mom's eyes never left me as she looked me over.
I took her hand in mine. "It's been a long time, Mamma."
"Has it? Is that why you look so much older?"
I laughed. "I don't look that much older, do I?"
"You're different," she mused and reached out to touch my face. "It's not just your face. You're different."
I nodded. "Things change. I changed. I had to."
"Because of what happened to me?" she asked sadly.
"No, because of what happened to me," I corrected. "I made…a mess of things. I took a bad situation and made it worse, made it all about me."
She pursed her lips. "People tend to do that sometimes, son. It doesn't make you a bad person."
No, it made me an awful person. I smiled as best I could and changed the subject. "Enough about that. I missed you."
"What do you mean you missed me? Where were you? How long has it been?"
"Too long," I answered, the rest of the words getting stuck in my throat by guilt. "Too long, Mamma."
I spent the next two and a half hours there. She forgot everything several times while I was there, but I found I didn't mind that as much as I thought I would. Just being there with her at all made me feel so much better.
I asked her about sending the letter to my friend's telling me that Mason was getting married, but she didn't remember. When I went to the bathroom, I peeked inside Mason's room and saw how much that girl of his had done with the place. It was always pretty neat and clean, but the
Guilt hit me big time as I climbed the porch stairs and looked at all the new wood that took its place. The house had been painted a pale blue. There were flowers in the yard, and the front door was different.
Mason had done all that?
I stood, staring a hole in that door. What was I going to say to her? Taking a deep breath through my nose, I raised my hand and knocked hard with my knuckles. A middle-aged woman answered the door not five seconds later. I'd never seen her.
For a second I panicked that one of my fears had come to life and they had moved, but I remembered Mason telling me he had hired a nurse for Mamma. This must be her.
"Hi, can I help you?" she inquired, looking at the flowers curiously.
"I'm…" I cleared my throat. I was sure she would know I was the scumbag son who never came to see his mom, but I said it anyway. "I'm Milo. I'm here to see my mother."
That sentence—that one sentence—brought so much guilt on me that I nearly choked.
She smiled tightly and opened the door wider. "Milo. Yes, Mrs. Wright talks about you all the time."
"She does?" I asked before it clicked. Ah, she talks about me because she still thinks I'm a sixteen year old boy living at home with her. "Yeah, uh, how is she doing?"
"In general, medically," she asked with a raised eyebrow, "or just today?"
She was subtly calling me out on not coming to see her. I deserved it. "All of the above." I gulped. "I know I haven't come to see her. I've been…away."
"I've noticed," she said and turned toward the living room. Nothing there had changed. It looked exactly like it did the day I left. "Mrs. Wright, you have a visitor."
"Who are you?" she asked the woman.
"I'm your nurse, Patti," she answered and I gathered every ounce of courage I had. "Your son Milo is here to see you."
I pushed my feet, one in front of the other, and turned the corner to see my mother. She looked older, but good. She looked healthy and well taken care of. "Hey, Mamma."
"Milo," she gasped. "Son, what happened to you?"
I went to her, pulling a chair from the dining room table over in front of her, and placed the flowers on the table next to her. The nurse took them and said she'd put them in water for her. Mom's eyes never left me as she looked me over.
I took her hand in mine. "It's been a long time, Mamma."
"Has it? Is that why you look so much older?"
I laughed. "I don't look that much older, do I?"
"You're different," she mused and reached out to touch my face. "It's not just your face. You're different."
I nodded. "Things change. I changed. I had to."
"Because of what happened to me?" she asked sadly.
"No, because of what happened to me," I corrected. "I made…a mess of things. I took a bad situation and made it worse, made it all about me."
She pursed her lips. "People tend to do that sometimes, son. It doesn't make you a bad person."
No, it made me an awful person. I smiled as best I could and changed the subject. "Enough about that. I missed you."
"What do you mean you missed me? Where were you? How long has it been?"
"Too long," I answered, the rest of the words getting stuck in my throat by guilt. "Too long, Mamma."
I spent the next two and a half hours there. She forgot everything several times while I was there, but I found I didn't mind that as much as I thought I would. Just being there with her at all made me feel so much better.
I asked her about sending the letter to my friend's telling me that Mason was getting married, but she didn't remember. When I went to the bathroom, I peeked inside Mason's room and saw how much that girl of his had done with the place. It was always pretty neat and clean, but the
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