Month: January 2018
She washes the mushrooms and brings them to the counter. She pulls one from the colander and clicks the stem off. I take it and begin slicing as she mumbles, “I wanted to slice them.” I toss back at her, “I want them done a certain way, so, I’ll do it.” Her body slumps, an echo of defeat tracers the movement of her hands against the mushroom stems.
The words returned to my mind, “You always have to be right.” It was quipped with a smile and a laugh, but there was truth in jest.
I surrendered the knife, and she sliced.
We stood side by side, me tending a pan of wilting spinach, her swishing a spoon through sliced mushrooms leaving a wake of butter and olive oil in its path. We stand among aromas and laughter, and words are tracing the counter tops, the cabinets.
And, it is hard this holding on to letting go. It’s hard to set the child free. To let her be who she is to be. How do you set someone free who holds a piece of your heart? But, for now, we stand two hearts working as one.
Hours later they sit side-by-side faces aglow with the reflection of the incandescent screen. They chat about usernames and passwords, and I question what it is they are doing. “Setting up an account, to play the game, mom.” The wafting memory of pre-dinner talk roams the nuances of my mind as recollection fills my senses.
They are stuck and need my help, and for a moment they are children grasping my hand. I guide them through the unknown territory, and then they release me and run off… “Okay, we got it” …alone.