“I continued to notice small changes in Mother’s voice, tone and demeanor as time went on. Our calls would often be later than usual and would run into the early hours of the morning, and Mother’s voice would sometimes turn husky and breathy. My naivety would not reveal the reason behind it until we were well involved.
“I began to get annoyed at our conversations because I wanted to bring up the letters. I knew it wasn’t the right time, but I wanted to know what Mother was thinking. One day, I got the letter I’d been waiting on.”
My Greatest Love,
Understanding is not a requirement for action. Throughout time, people have sought those with similar thoughts to conquer things they didn ‘ t understand. Sometimes understanding would come at the end, if at all. In the meantime, the adventure was worth it.
Love,
Your Mother
“I smiled deeply as I finished reading her letter. I was almost positive that Mom was with me in my thoughts. There was no phone call from Mother for a couple days.
“I sat in my room and re-read the letter several times and masturbated just as often over the potential that existed. I read the words in my head with her voice. ‘Requirement for action.’ Every session I took, which is to say, several per day, I imagined many different ways of undressing Mother. But it was always the invasive image of the first penetration that finished the job. I decided to play along with her game.”
My Love,
Collaboration is complicated by the distance between two who share a common interest. If I were them, I would find a common space between them and begin the journey of discovery. I recall a famous artist ‘ s suggestion that hastening the start of a painting is a measure of happiness.
Love, Your Son
“I changed from adding my name to my position in her life. It was the last chance she would have to stop all of this. I was all in. If the word ‘son’ didn’t scare her, we’d be able to move forward without further reservations.
“A few more days went by before I got a call from Mother. She was exceptionally careful of her conversation, but not so much with her tone. It remained soft, timid, and curious. Through all the years that passed, I remember the conversation that night.
” ‘Hi, Mom!’ I said in an upbeat tone as I answered the phone.
” ‘Hello, Love. How have you been?’ she asked in a cautious whisper.
“I went to lay in bed as I always did while talking to Mom. I never preoccupied myself with any other task, so I didn’t come off as distracted. ‘Pretty nervous,’ I admitted. I paused before completing my sentence, ‘I’ve had to wait longer than I like to get my grades back,’ I said, hoping Mom would catch my double meaning. There was a long pause. I listened carefully to anything I could place meaning on.
” ‘I was a bit nervous myself,’ she said just above a whisper. ‘I couldn’t find something the other day and I remembered that if I slowed down and looked, maybe I would find it. As it turns out, it was right in front of my face the entire time.’ I was a little confused. Was she chastising herself for not knowing how I felt, or was she telling me to slow down, so we don’t miss something? I liked the game and continued playing.