mother and son

The boarding pass

She can’t sleep because her I-Pad failed to connect to her printer.
At 4 a.m. she grips the bannister to climb the narrow steps to her chilly study that faces
the canal of her Dutch village, far in the north of Holland.
She must have that boarding pass
ready to go.
At age 82, nothing is more important than her trip to France
tomorrow with her second son.
He wants to take her.  She wants to be with him.
He had told her she didn’t need to print any documents.
She knew he would take care of all of that.
But she does not want to be a burden.

Steenwijk, the Netherlands, Sept. 2014

Graves

or

First Lieutenant Edward McClure Peters’s mother

Eleanor Bradley-Peters gazed
every day
at her son’s grave
with its simple white cross
identical to the 4,142 others
at his side
each for a young American man
or boy
who was killed in France
to fight the Kaiser in
1918.

Age 53, Eleanor Bradley-Peters had moved from a big place,
New York City
to live close to this grave
in St.-Michiel,
a little place,
in France
because he was still there

Loyal beyond death
she left him only
to be buried herself
after the Germans invaded again
23 years later

She lies nearby
under the simple white cross she chose
identical to the one of
her son whom she loved
madly

A plaque erected to the dead soldiers
says:
Time shall not dim the glory of their deeds.
Hers were as glorious
as his.

Inspired by an article in the New York Times, 19 Sept 14.

St.-Mihiel American Cemetery.

Photo Credit Marie Liesse for The New York Times

Mother and Son

“Wait, I need to talk to my mother about this.”

My son’s ex-girlfriend was just telling me about her first lesbian affair.  My son and I were sitting with her in the living room and you know you don’t know what to say when somebody wants to talk about something like that to you.  Congratulations?  Is that the right thing?  Anyway, we were sitting in silence.

My son shifted uncomfortably.  “Wait, I need to talk to my mother about this,” he said. 

That’s what really surprised me.  My son wanted to talk to me about his girlfriend’s lesbian love affair.  You know, my son and I were not always close.  When he was born, I changed his diapers.  I fed him.  I knew everything about him and then when he turned, maybe, 8‑years‑old, suddenly he was a little man and he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.  That was okay.  I understood.  When he became about 14, he really closed the door.  I think he was having sex with girls and he just didn’t want me to know about it.  So, I got used to it.  I loved him anyway.  A mother does that.  You tell yourself, “It’s fine.  He’s building his own life.  He’s going to leave the house just as he should.”  

But inside it really hurts.  You know you’re going to miss him for the rest of your life.

“Wait, I want to talk to my mother about this,” was one of the sweetest things I’d ever heard.  Suddenly, this boy whom I’d loved so much became a man, a man who wanted my advice.  Suddenly, I was going to get the chance to guide the person whom I loved in fact more than anybody else in the world.  My eldest son is my pride and joy.  Okay, the secret’s out.  He’s the one I love the most.

In life, you learn many things.  But you never get the chance to use them because you learn them AFTER you make your mistakes.  Now I have the chance, the small window, to help my son avoid the mistakes that I made.  More than anything, I want his life to be better than mine.  I always have.  That’s been my driving force as a parent.

This is the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me and if I can do anything to help him out, I’ll do it gladly.