“When I was about ten years old, Mother decided she wanted to get a job and she sat and discussed this with me. She treated me like an adult in times like those, and it made me smile to think that she thought of me as an equal. I feel now like she would have altered her course if she felt like I didn’t agree with something she brought up to me. It was always when it had something to do with a disruption in our familial routine. She would sit me down on the carpet in the living room and she would get drinks and snacks and set them between us before sitting down on the carpet at my level. She never spoke down to me at all. I felt so grown-up snacking in the living room with Mother as she laid out her plan and sought my input.
“In that discussion, she told me our routine would only change a little. She told me she had gotten a job, and that she would always be home when I went to school, but sometimes would not be home when I got back. Looking back, I realize that decisions were already made, and she took my input simply as a matter to explain things or make only minor changes, so I wasn’t abruptly and irreparably harmed by a sudden change.
“‘Is that okay, kiddo?’ she would always ask with a warm smile. Yes, while I felt like an adult, I realized she used words like ‘kiddo’.
“She always sought my approval before discussions were ended. She fielded any questions I would have, and I always left every conversation feeling comfortable about whatever was happening or about to happen. She took great pains to ensure I was never confused, bothered, upset, or any other way but positive about a family decision. Being an adult now, I find it odd how authoritative parents are towards their children. I also know that my family was a rare case.
“That’s where it started. I’m trying to find the note that started everything. There are hundreds of them in the box.
“Ah, here it is.”
Dearest Garrett,
I hope you enjoyed school. Today, I have to work late, but not late enough to miss our time together tonight. Have a snack when you get home and I ‘ ll see you as soon as I get home!
Love,
Your Mother
The sound of a glass being filled interrupts the story. The clinking of ice is soon overpowered by liquid splashing. A large gulp is heard, followed closely by the slamming of the glass onto the table.
“I remember this one. There’s a stain on it from the lunch I had while at school the day she wrote it. I remember being surprised when I opened my lunchbox to find it.
“It wasn’t the first one she left, but it was the first one I kept. The words on the top of the box that sits here in front of me weren’t written that day. I would always put the notes in my backpack, and sometime after they accumulated, I would empty the bag and put the notes in the box.
“I imagine puberty is where everything changed. No, not my mother or our relationship. It was how I viewed Mother. She was always Mom to me. But then, she became a woman in the house, and I began to take notice of that. Of course, in the moment, I didn’t realize I was taking note.