Eighteen Years

Her hands shook as she reread the letter. The first time didn’t seem real. The second time, she confirmed she read it correctly the first time. The third time, she looked for clues and details she had maybe missed. But now, she accepted its contents. Her mother wished to see her. After 18 years of silence, she wanted to see her again. The memory of their last encounter played over in her mind. The yelling echoed in her ears. The tears began to form again as they did many times when she remembered that day. It felt so long ago, yet it also felt like yesterday.

She found her favorite chair beside her bedroom window and sat. The rain pattered against the window, mirroring the feeling she had inside. She had dreamt of this day for so many years. She had reached out to her mother many times, only to be met with rejection and unanswered questions.

"Why now?" She pondered, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She wiped away another tear as her phone rang.

“Hello?” She answered after she saw that it was her fiancé.

“Hey, babe. I’m on my way home.” He said.

She glanced back down at the letter. She never told him about her mother. It was easier to lie to say she didn’t know her mother. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She didn’t know who her mother was now. But she always worded it carefully to make it sound like she had never known her mother. There was the lie. Her mother raised her until she didn’t.

“Perfect,” She forced herself to sound normal, but he knew her too well.

“What’s wrong?” He said.

“What do you mean?” She answered. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ll start dinner.” She paused. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She hung up before her voice would give her away again. What the hell am I going to do?

She made her way to the kitchen and began preparing dinner. She tried to focus on each task but often got lost in thought.

I could ignore it. I’m in a good place with Landon and happy now at work. She thought. She chopped the onions and threw them in the skillet. As the onions sizzled, a memory stirred. The first time she sautéed onions was with her mother. She remembered her mother best when working her way around the kitchen. Each lesson echoed in her mind, but she always pushed away the empty feeling that accompanied thoughts of her mother. It was more difficult now because, in all reality, she missed her mother.

She knew there had been a void in her life since she walked out of her mother’s front door, a void that her anger told her was a good riddance. But in her heart, she knew it was a loss. A loss that she hoped would be filled one day. And when the anger faded, she reached out. Disappointment replaced the anger. Then sadness. With every year that passed, she was met with more disappointment, sadness, and eventually resentment, grief, and longing.

The longing was worse. She wondered what her mother was doing now, where she was, what she thought, and if she would ever find it in her heart to forgive her. She wondered if she felt the same longing she had felt. But she knew if she had, her mother would have reached out. But she never did until now. How could her mother have lived so long without speaking to her only daughter? How was she okay with this?

Why now? She thought. Why now? Tears rolled down her cheeks as she added meat to her onions. She used her sleeve to wipe away her tears and took a deep breath.

I could meet with her, see her again, and find out why she never returned my calls or letters. I could finally get the answers. I don’t have to forgive her to meet with her. She thought to herself. Meeting with her isn’t forgiving her.

She stirred her skillet as she waited for the meat to brown. This was always her least favorite part. Her mother used to joke with her about her impatience. “Why is this part the worst for you?”

“I just hate waiting for all of it to brown. It takes too long.”

“But you had no complaints about waiting for the water to boil.” She laughed. Her mother’s laugh was always loud and boisterous, filling the entire house. She loved her mother’s laugh and voice, as long as it wasn’t angry. “You’re so backwards, girl.”

“They say the apple doesn’t bounce off a tree… or whatever.”

“Oh my,” her mother smiled. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, girl.”

“Whatever…” They both laughed, and she laughed out loud now. She missed their banter. She missed her mother’s smile, laughter, and lessons. She missed her mother more than anything, making her even angrier. How could her mother let this many years go by without missing her like she had missed her mother?

She didn’t care before, so why now? More tears spilled down her cheek. Their argument had felt like the end of the world then. But now? Now it seemed so small compared to the love she still carried. So fragile, so human. So easily lost. She realized how trivial their disagreement was. Why did something that seemed so trivial take away 18 years with her mother? How could her mother let that happen? How could she have let that happen? She loved her mother. Even now, she loves her. That’s all that mattered, but they forgot the fateful day 18 years ago. And in those 18 years, they let the anger outweigh their love. At that moment, she knew what she had to do. She knew the decision she would make. It would not be easy, but nothing that truly mattered ever was easy. It wasn’t supposed to be. Because in this life, what matters is those we love. Everything else is minuscule. The relationships we form and the love we share are the only things that truly matter. One day, when the ones we love have moved on, these trivial disagreements won’t be remembered. We will not forget the smiles we shared and the love we felt.