Oh, Mother

“Oh, Mother.” A deep sigh leaves me as I consider carefully what I want to say to you.

Your advice stuck in my head forever includes this tidbit. Little lies will always spin out of control and become big lies. That was genius! I let out another sigh as I perform a facepalm.

I’m trying to tell you about “The Great Special Way Go Mart Incident of 1980” when one little cover-up lie turned into an almost “going to sue the owners” nightmare. Seriously, can we just calm down a second?

Look. I know Mic and I told you that we had stopped at the Go Mart on the way back to her house after the football game Friday night. We grabbed snacks and left. On the way out, I slipped on the ice and fell. This resulted in my horrendous cut to my finger that required four stitches and a splint.

“It must have been a random piece of glass. Or something. I don’t know.” This also required a tetanus shot, because who knows what I could have cut it on in that nasty parking lot! Then the phone calls to Go Mart, asking them to clean their lot, and clear it of ice. You were and always have been so good about making sure everyone was safe. Go Mart thought you were being ridiculous! I had no idea you had called them at all.

I overheard the conversation with Daddy when you said, “Well, maybe I should call a lawyer. That might change the way they are speaking to me.” Whoa! That stopped me in my tracks. Hold up!

I did some fancy fast talking to tell you I was okay. I let you know they had cleaned the lot. Also, pay no attention to whoever was being rude. Things were not as they appeared. No need for all the dramatics, Mother. Plus, I was wearing a cool finger splint on my middle finger now! I could walk in and flip them off every day if it would make you feel better.

I cannot think of any other time in my life when you did not know the truth about anything. I never had a want, need, or desire to lie to you about anything important. I mean, we can forget about those toddler years, right? Of course, I’m sure I was guilty of stealing cookies. And silly teen stuff, I didn’t really have to be present for full choir rehearsals at church, Charlie’s Angels was far too cool to miss. Blame everything else on those bratty brothers of mine. Let’s face it, they are far worse than me. That is why I am the favorite. Right? Thank you for taking care of them anyway, even though they are rotten.

“Oh, Mother.” Another sigh as I walk to the kitchen for more tea. I chuckle to myself about “The Incident” that poor Special Way Go Mart, long since shut down, received the wrath of Mother Mary, also gone now. The Saint of our small town and the teacher and woman who has left her enormous mark on countless lives and generations. Go Mart was never involved, except to receive numerous calls from you.

The truth revealed now after 42 years is comical. Mic and I were in the marching band. She played the clarinet; I was a drummer. We did go to her house after the game, although we did not stop at Go Mart. We didn’t need to. Mic had some delicious chocolate at home that her parents had bought. The special kind. The kind with no label, wrapped in wax paper. The kind you get from the Amish! We were about to get some of that. OH YEAH!

We raced into the house, as giddy 15-year-old girls would do and could not find the chocolate. It took minutes to discover that Mic’s mother had put it in the freezer. You know I am one of those people who love my chocolate frozen, also. When it is in a big block, this is a problem. This was the problem for us. Obviously, we must cut it. But how? The answer was (pause for dramatic effect) a huge butcher knife. A knife that Mic had been told she was “never allowed to touch.” Loosely translated, “find a reason to use it!” if you are a teenager.

Mic tried for a few minutes to saw through the chocolate. No luck.

I tried to saw through. No luck. However, we were making a nice groove in it!

I picked it up, tried to break it, “I think I can snap it! Maybe we just need to cut it a little more.”

You may have guessed what happens next. Mic didn’t hesitate or let me set it down. She immediately chopped that knife onto that chunk of frozen chocolate as I was still trying to snap it.

It snapped.

The knife went directly into my finger and knuckle. Very smooth. We cleaned my wound and wrapped it. Then we enjoyed all the broken pieces of chocolate. We came up with a story because there was no way she could let her dad know she had used that knife and, worse, it had resulted in an injury! That’s like the end of times for a good Catholic girl like her. I’m not Catholic, but I was her best friend, and I understood.

I already know when I ask your forgiveness what the answer will be.

“Of course, I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

And my reply to you always, “Yes, but there’s nothing to forgive, Mother. I love you.”