For Mother

I stepped out my back door, closing it gently behind me, wrapping my coat tighter around me. The moon was making the fresh snow sparkle. It was so quiet. Nothing stirred in the night. My breath escaped my lips in repeated bouts of warm smoke. I smiled and sighed with such contentment my heart fluttered. I loved winter. Everything about it seemed to bring me to life.

Stepping off my back porch, the snow crunched under my boots. Walking towards our dormant orchard, the moon disappeared behind clouds, and it started to snow again. I stopped below an apple tree, so I could listen to the flakes settle onto the ground with such calm surety. I placed my back against the tree, and stood there for a while; thinking. It had been a long week, and some reflection was necessary.

My mother was falling further into her illness, and my sister wanted her to move to the country with me. She said it would be good for her to be here, in the quiet, away from the hurried life of the city. The only thing was that I needed to be prepared to watch my mother fade away from this world, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. I told her I would think about it, and my sister ended the conversation with, “Don’t be selfish, Lizzy. Our mother has always been there for us. Your quiet life is a good place for her to be in the end.” I just nodded my head at her as I got in my truck to head for home.

She was right, of course, like she always was. We could not have asked for a better mother, raising us without a father, the best that she could, my sister becoming a very successful woman in a man’s world, and I being a very successful investor who could retire before I reached fifty years. Our mother did a fine job, and I loved her dearly. That’s what made this decision so difficult. I had no family or children. I lived alone with my animals for company, and I was happy that way. I wasn’t ready to watch my mother die. I would be the first one to watch her leave this life. It was a lot to accept.

I stood under the apple tree for a while longer. The tears that had made their way down my face were growing cold. I wiped them away with my scarf, and headed back to the house, walking slowly so I could still enjoy the soft crunch under my boots. I opened the back door, and was welcomed with my cat leaned up against the door, eagerly waiting for me to return. I retired my boots, scarf, and jacket on the hook that hung next to the door, and walked to my favorite rocking chair in the living room.

My black and white ball of fur curled up on my lap. I grabbed my opened book from the stand next to me, and put on my glasses to read. I read aloud to him for about an hour as we rocked there, his purring a sign that he was enjoying himself. The wood from the fireplace cracked and popped. After a few chapters, I placed my bookmark between the unread pages and placed it back in its resting spot along with my glasses. I picked up the ball of fur and made our way to the kitchen for an evening cup of tea. As I set the kettle on, I rang my sister.

“Hello.” Her voice sounded drowsy. I must have woken her.

“Hey, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll do it. It’s the most I can do for her. I think she’ll be happy here.” The kettle started to whistle. I removed it from the flame turning the stove off.

She replied, “Thank you so much, honey. This will mean the world to Mom!” More awake now, she couldn’t withhold the joy in her voice. She continued, “I’ll go to the retirement home in the morning, and let her know. Then we will get her moved within the week. Thank you again, Elizabeth.” My sister hung up the phone, and I set mine down on the counter. I imagined my sister turning to her husband laying next to her to tell him the good news. That her sister wasn’t selfish after all, and I really did love my mother.

I poured myself a cup of green tea, and sat at the kitchen table. My fur ball of a cat curled up on the chair next to me, his eyes opening and closing, clearly debating on whether to fall asleep or not.

I felt a certain lightness as I sat there, the sound of the fireplace still cracking, the wind starting to pick up outside. I loved it here. Away from everything, and in my mothers last years of life, I knew she would love it too. Letting out a deep sigh, a smile began on my face. From then on, I wouldn’t be out here alone. The only woman that I ever trusted in my life besides my sister would be here from now on — the woman who nursed me when I was ill, who had made me laugh until I cried, and made me smile when I’d been crying, pried me back from lost love, and a broken heart. Now it was my turn to make her laugh until she cried, to make her smile when she’s been crying, to pry her back from the hurt into the light. It was my turn to make her happy and be there for her.

I looked out my kitchen window at the snow that was now being disturbed by the wind. I brought the cup up to my lips, and imagined what the next few years might bring.