by Leetta Angel
was definitely one of those times. She pushed play on the CD player and soothing strains of Moonlight Sonata washed over her like a sweet summer rain. Perhaps her thinking this marriage was a death to her life had run its course. She smiled as she thought about her son’s chubby infant cheeks as he looked up at her from his car-seat. How his first word was butterfly and it came out of nowhere when one landed on his hand. She was lost in her memories of his baby years. After awhile she could not tell if it was raining. She couldn’t see through her own tears.
After the car warmed and she resigned herself to getting through the day once again, she looked in the rearview mirror and slowly backed up out of the space. Traffic was tight and she fought the urge to let her road rage move freely from her mouth and hands. She would go home and make Jack’s cake. She pulled onto the highway carefully, like she did when he was small and riding in the tiny rear-facing seat in the back. Now he could hardly sit in the backseat he was so tall and strongly built. Things had definitely come full circle.
She drove slowly as the roads were beginning to ice over in spots. She got home without incident and brought her bags inside. She sat them down on the table as she walked down the hallway to Jack’s room. It was empty. She found his note on the kitchen table, near where she placed her bags. She sat down and read it slowly. She loved his letters.
“Mom,
I am going to the community center to finish setting up the rehearsal dinner. The guys and I are going to make sure it looks the way she wants it to look. The caterer will be there at 6 p.m. to set-up the dinner. I know you’re working on the cake but don’t forget to be there. I’ll see you and Dad soon.
Love you both,
Jack”
She bent her nose to the letter and could faintly smell his scent. Like her father, he loved Irish Spring soap and he always smelled clean and fresh. She folded the paper four times and slid it into her pocket.
She set-up the mixer and began making the cake. It came together easily and she had the two pans cooling when it was time for her and Jack’s father to leave for the rehearsal dinner. Jack’s father’s face will filled with excitement for his son. She knew he was living vicariously through Jack, experiencing everything Jack experienced through his own eyes. He was proud of his son and he was an amazing father. Jack had the gift of his father in his life from day one. Of all Jack’s friends, only two others could claim that distinction. It made a difference in a young man to have his father’s love and attention.
She was proud of Jack’s father and admired him for giving so much of himself to his child. She looked at his face, the way he smiled and how his eyes crinkled up when he laughed. Jack was a lot like his father. She was thankful for that. He had humor and a certain grace that she did not possess. But she was proud that they did possess those qualities. Jack’s father had won her over with that grace, humor and willingness to try to make her happy. And Jack’s father had succeeded, she was a happy woman.
Nonetheless, as she grew older, she found her expectations were ever changing. It was another point of mourning for her to realize she was a different girl from the one he met and married. While she missed her youth, she didn’t mind the dignity that came with age. She enjoyed the gray hair and the respect she seemed to gain with every passing year. She only wished she had appreciated the gifts of youth when she had them. Part of her mourning for the loss of her babe to marriage was that appreciation for the gifts of youth. She did not want him to regret later the decisions he made now. And while she did not feel she had regrets, there were nights when her body warmed and flushed and her head ached from a weariness that she could not name. While she wanted to call it wisdom she knew it wasn’t. But she wasn’t ready to admit to any regret. Not yet anyway.
She took Jack’s father’s hand and squeezed it lightly. He smiled at her with his dancing green eyes and leaned in to kiss her cheek. When they were younger, he would brazenly molest her whenever he had the chance. Now, he showed some restraint but not much. She was not ungrateful for the physical affection – she had grown accustomed to it and would miss it terribly if it were gone. She studied his face and realized that she had mapped his face in her mind. Each wrinkle, each twinkle, and the alarming lack of gray hair that had made her secretly despise him for years; everything was etched in her mind. He took her by the arm and they walked to the door. The car was cold again and the snow seemed to fall more passionately now. They settled into their seats and talked about the dinner.
Jack was waiting on them at the door of the community center when they arrived. She could see the worry that showed on his face plainly. She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. He smiled and hugged her and led them both into the center. The rehearsal dinner was set-up beautifully, with white ribbon and candles. The caterer was serving the salad. She and Jack’s father sat down with Jack between them. Across from them, the Smiths flanked their daughter. They all smiled and easily talked to each other about the weather, the wedding, and the beauty of the snow. Jack picked at his food but his smile was pure and planted on his face. The salad course ended and the caterer brought out the entrée. As requests for chicken or prime rib were made and delivered, someone turned on music to accompany the guests’ meal. As we ate silently, Jack gazed at his bride to be. She was beautiful and charming. He reached across the table and held her hand as she sat between the security of the family she was leaving to make hers with him. Her mother’s eyes were red and I could see the tears that stood behind their blueness. Jack’s mother passed her a tissue. Mrs. Smith looked over at her gratefully. Their shared mourning was being shattered by their children’s happiness. While it was a difficult thing to accept, it was a beautiful thing to behold. Their children were in love.
The dessert was a beautiful cheesecake with chocolate sauce. As the guests tasted the last course, talked turned to the cake for tomorrow. In the middle of a heated discussion of the benefits of chocolate versus vanilla, Jack proudly announced that his mother was making the groom’s cake and that he couldn’t wait to taste it. His mother smiled sweetly at her son as he declared her something of a culinary miracle worker. He held her hand and kissed her check. She thought back to all the conversations they shared snuggled under a blanket when he would tell her about his dreams and what he was doing with this or that. She remembered the way he would hold her hand and kiss her cheek. And then she knew. She wasn’t losing him. She would never lose him. He was hers, as much as he ever was. She just had to learn to share.
Looking at the happiness on Jack’s face, she found the strength to do just that. She let go of the regret for lost years and times and looked forward to those in the future, where it would not only be Jack but his bride and his children. She smiled in anticipation of this new chapter to be told. Jack’s father squeezed her hand and whispered to her, softly asking what mischief was behind that smile. She just kept smiling and ducked her head. She couldn’t explain to him that she had found a new home. He would realize it soon enough.
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Thank you so much for reading this story. I have waited forty years to share my words with you. I hope you enjoyed them.
About the author:
Leetta Jackson Angel is a native Kentuckian and still lives in Kentucky on a farm in the middle of nowhere with her husband and son. She loves animals and shares the farm with a few dogs, cats, donkeys, pigs, rabbits, and assorted fowls, including peacocks. She has been writing off and on her entire life. An avid reader, she enjoys reading about a variety of subjects, everything from vampires to true crime to sustainable living.
