Mothers 03/05/09
Sitting here in the hospital while Mom is undergoing back surgery has given me some idle time to think. Ironically, while Mom is in surgery, it is also my birth mother's birthday. My mind races as I wonder and worry about both of them, all the while keeping my composure, which I have gotten quite good at since Dad died. Is mom going to be okay after surgery? Is the doctor going to come out any minute and say everything is fine? I haven't talked to my birth mother in almost a month. Is she okay? Is anyone celebrating with her or is she alone?
My thoughts turn to my father. It is strange not having him here at times like this. For a moment, I picture us sitting together in White Castle near his store, drinking that awesome coffee before we venture down to Central Fleet to count inventory. Every year I looked forward to the ritual of "counting", because I knew Dad would treat me and the "other employees" to lunch at a fancy restaurant. I was just a 12-year-old girl, but during inventory week I pretended to be just one of the guys, climbing ladders, pencil behind the ear, kneeling in motor oil and counting parts as the smell of the store permeated my senses. I chuckle to myself thinking that somehow I grew up to be a "girlie girl" after all.
For a moment, I feel isolated, until I see my brother in the distance, walking towards me from the end of the hall. Today, I am glad I am not an only child. Big brother is impressed that I brought my laptop to the hospital. He asks if I am working. "No, just messing around, killing time."
We wait together - me plugging away at my laptop, my brother on his cell phone. Today could be a day of double celebration, learning my two mothers are okay, one six states away and one right behind the double doors. The door swings open and the doctor walks towards us, smiling. I take a deep breath and exhale with relief.