A Tale of Two Mothers

Victory

She knew that Saturday afternoons are the worst time to shop at Whole Foods. The aisles are emptying, billing lines are long, and tempers are short. Plus Lucy had had her flu-shot that day and had been cranky all morning. And elder sister Leah is at that age when she’s testing boundaries. All. The. Time.

After 45 minutes of intense and efficient shopping, with Leah sitting in the cart, and Lucy alternating between walking and being carried, mom’s ready to get this over with. Ten minutes into standing in the billing line, a tall man with a half-filled basket nudges past Leah’s legs in mom’s cart. Leah’s voice pierces through the veil of groceries, making the tall man apologize profusely, before he moves on. Lucy picks up on her sister’s mood and starts whimpering.  Mom immediately checks Leah’s limbs for perforations. None found.  “I see no blood, not even a scratch. We will survive this dear”, she says.

Leah however, will not be consoled. She is beginning to throw things out of the shopping cart in defiance. Lucy is enjoying the show and making a game out of picking up the dropped pieces. Mom asks Leah to please stop, but she won’t. A couple minutes later, mom says, “We just had this talk last night, Leah. You are a big sister and need to start acting like a good one. There is no need to throw a tantrum.  If you don’t stop this right now, I’ll return the peanut butter candy and you will get a time-out when we get home.” In a few minutes, Leah magically winds down her tantrum.

Lucy meanwhile has started regaling other shoppers with cute songs and gentle dancing. The next step is to pick up magazines, and dance with them while singing out loud. Mom knows that it’s time to shut this down. “Please put the book back in the shelf, Lucy”, she says. “I’ll have to pay for it if it tears”. Lucy continues her song and dance. Shoppers coo over her cuteness. Mom’s face goes from pink to crimson.

Her eyes are beseeching the shoppers to stop encouraging the antics while her mouth is streaming perfectly polite instructions to the girls, and her hands are starting to place groceries on the conveyor belt.  Her mind is a tightly balled-up fist. It holds all the memories of the day she’s had with the girls in tight balance with what needs to happen next. It is nearing peak efficiency, that mind.  That fist is balled up because a moment’s focus lost, would mean chaos. Her heart is pounding at her chest, like a prisoner in a dark closet. But she stays at that impossible peak just long enough.

She was last seen calmly walking out, three bags, two kids and dignity in hand.

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Heartbroken

I had no credit history when I bought my home. So I had my brother sign my mortgage for me. He lives with his family on the second floor, and I live with mine on the first. We rent out the basement. The bank offered almost interest-free loans at the beginning. My mortgage started at $3,000 Within a few years it was up to $4,500 and then $5,400.  Ten years after buying my house, my brother was still contributing the originally promised share of $1,500, and I was working 3 jobs.

I worked every waking hour in order to pay for the home, take care of my sick husband, and put my daughter through school and college. When I got married, my husband was well but my father was sick. We would not even think of letting him live alone. He stayed with us through his sickness, and until the end.

My daughter completed her undergrad and went into nursing a few years back. After an year of grueling work, she decided to go back to school.  We had a long discussion about this, but she made her case for the additional degree well. She deserved a bright future; I couldn’t say no. She graduated this year, and is looking for a job.

I paid the mortgage for almost 7 years before I realized I just couldn’t keep up, so we tried negotiating with the bank. After 4 more years of broken negotiations, and an enormous accumulation of interest, I was told this week that I need to give up my home. That is my only choice. My brother will have to declare bankruptcy, and we will all need to move out. He will take his family to another home, and I will move mine several miles west to an affordable rental property. We will all miss each other.

My daughter is getting married next month. She met her boyfriend a few years back and they have decided to marry. She needs to do this right away to escape the failed promises of her DACA status. Just yesterday, she told me that she will soon move out.  “You won’t have to worry about taking care of me anymore”, she said and talked excitedly about the freedom and privacy she hopes to enjoy soon.

She doesn’t even realize that she’s abandoning us, the poor child. I’m confident of that.  My body is battered, and my bank account is empty, but I will not cry. Not even when my precious past moves on to create an alien future. I promise, I will not let my heart break.