“Cheers to new beginnings,” my mom said softly.
I looked around the room — at my kids’ happy, sleepy faces, my husband’s arm draped around my shoulders, and my mother, glowing with joy.
Something shifted.
A week later, Ethan and I sat down with Gloria at a coffee shop.
“Mom, explain yourself,” Ethan said, adding sugar to his coffee. “And don’t deny anything. Be honest.”
“I lied to your mother because I was hurt that you guys didn’t invite us.
I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I think I felt overcome with loneliness too. You know how the holidays can creep up on widows…”
“Why didn’t you just go over and spend time with her?” I asked, taking a bite of my croissant.
“You were both lonely. You could have spent time together and enjoyed the holidays getting to know each other better. You could have watched movies and baked and talked until the early hours of the morning.”
“I wasn’t thinking, Ellie,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I would take it all back in a heartbeat if I could, I promise you that.”
We were all silent for a while.
“So, now what?” Ethan asked.
“I’m going to phone Irene and make things right. I’m going to plan a tea party with her and make this better. We’ll fix it.
Just you see.”
“I hope so, Gloria,” I said. “Because we can’t have the kids torn between their grandmothers. I’m not going to allow that.”
“As you should!” she exclaimed.
“I wouldn’t allow it either. I’ll fix it, Ellie. Don’t you worry about that, love.”
In the end, we left our mothers to themselves, and slowly but surely, they did fix their relationship.
Now, they are mahjong buddies who bake something new every weekend.
And for the record, I can’t stand eggs anymore.
What would you have done?
Source: amomama
