The Face in the Window

Hugs were something other mothers gave their children. Mine didn’t readily show affection, yet I felt her love all around me. It wasn’t until my mother was in her seventies that I took it upon myself to give her a hug and speak the words out loud, “I love you, mom.” After that, hugs and saying I love you became the norm. It felt so good to hug and be hugged, that I often wondered why I hadn’t made the effort sooner.

I was a working, single mother and money was often tight. Vacations were usually a quick trip home for Thanksgiving and some years, a week during the summer. I lived in Texas, Mom lived in Illinois.

Each year the lines seemed to grow deeper, the light in her eyes dimmer. Time had etched its mark on her face, slowed her movements, and taken away her ability to see well enough to enjoy quilting like she once had. I didn’t like seeing her frailties; it made me too aware of her mortality.

It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving 1998, the car was loaded, and I was heading back to Dallas. Before I walked out the door, I turned to give my mom a hug.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said. “Be careful.”

I settled myself in the driver’s seat and put the car in reverse. As the car moved backward, tears seeped from my eyes, splashing onto the front of my Dallas Cowboy’s sweatshirt. I wished I could have stayed longer, spent more time with my mom. I wouldn’t see her again until spring, and I would miss her.

The car came to a stop in front of the house. It was time to drive down the road that would put seven hundred fifty miles between us, yet I couldn’t shift gears. Through the dim morning light, my eyes searched until they found her face in the window. I waved goodbye, she waved back, both crying, both smiling through our tears, both blissfully unaware it was the last time.

Story ID:	1651
Written by:	Betty (BJ) Roan (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family Memories
Writers Conference:	$500 2007 Family Memories Writing Project
Location:	Lerna IL USA
Year:	1998