The Love that Binds

It was time. She knew that if she didn't do it now, she would never be able to.

Slowly, she made her way to the garage, pausing at the front door, casting an agonised glance over her shoulder at the pictures on the piano - memories of her children as teenagers, full of life, full of mischief and full of hope for the futures they would create. Their grins made her smile.

A sob caught in her throat. This was not right. A mother should never find herself grieving for her children. Which was silly really, because they were both healthy and well. They were merely far from her. In different states, at the far opposites of a country that was wide and wild with opportunity. Each had sought their livelihood in very different fields. Yet both were hard working, and carried an integrity as unique to their own personalities, as was their choice of work.

She knew she was overreacting. Still, her children were her world. They were a privilege in her life and a gift that she never thought would happen. Of course, most children leave home eventually.

She had been fortunate that hers had stayed longer than expected. One had even left and come back a few times claiming that her cooking was preferable to takeaway - high praise indeed. Two very different young men. Bound by genetics. Same mum, different fathers. Strongly connected despite their differences.

She had worked hard to provide as a single parent for some years. Still working hard, she was becoming concerned that as she aged, she may not be able to continue to honour the bills, feeling her energy waning and motivation slipping in a somewhat 'ageist' society. It had once been inferred to her by a particular 'neanderthal' that potential employers usually feel a woman over fifty five years of age is almost ready for retirement, thereby rendering her unemployable regardless of the wisdom, experience and knowledge they bring to the table. Archaic indeed, yet she knew in some cases, true.

These thoughts raced through her mind as she stepped into the garage. Sliding out a large container from under the bench, she was glad of the label on the front indicating the treasures within. Lifting the lid, the smell of old paper and the very slight smell of old socks, hit her nostrils, but she breathed it in gratefully. Inside were the remnant of her boys' lives, schools, mates, achievements and family photos from another time.

Her eldest was intense and focus driven, having known his direction and career from an early age. Striving and moving toward that with determination and courage, despite setbacks, competition or inconsistent opportunities. His persistence was paying off and she was proud. Her youngest was free spirited and scathing of anything that kept him trapped in conventional ideas or ideologies. Equally as creative as his brother, but choosing a more aggressive path, finding challenges in areas of life that many take for granted. Both highly sensitive, perceptive and intuitive, with a protective strength reserved primarily for family and friends. Each dealing with life in their own way. Her youngest had overcome huge challenges, and she was proud. Both were the best part of herself, encompassing her own frailties and struggles to just 'be'. No matter their imperfections, they would always be perfect to her.

Turning back to her task, she picked up a handful of old photographs. It felt surreal as she sat there surrounded by their furniture packed high to the rafters, stored for them while they were gone.

Last month, the younger had embarked on a trip overseas with mates, champing at the bit to see the world, daring it to show him experiences that would lift his faith in human nature and life itself. She knew he was tired of the mundane and his spirit needed the replenishment such a trip would bring. She loved his questioning mind and his search for purpose and meaning.

Just today she had received a text message from her youngest and an email from his brother asking her to search for a particular item in this container. She had been avoiding this space, filled to the brim with memories and the reminder of their absence. Yet, here she was. A black notebook they said. A sense of urgency in their request sent a worried chill down her spine.

The notebook once belonged to the elder boy, then it was passed down to the younger as was the way between them. Her husband, their step dad, Iain, had apparently found it earlier in the year, placing it back respectfully without reading the contents.

Placing the photos on the floor, she peered deep into the container, and there it was. The black notebook.

Gently, she picked it up and held it to her chest. Breathing deeply of the old leather, she wondered if she would see the names of old girlfriends or scratchings of schemes cooked up to get out of school. She smiled softly.

These past twelve months had been incredibly challenging. The eldest boy had been in lock down due to a virus that had gone rogue and she hadn't seen him, save the occasional face time session and regular phone calls. Worrying daily for his health and that of his lovely partner, she felt better after being reassured that regular reiki and yoga sessions at home were keeping them well. They utilized the time alone to hone their creative talents and write, read, and just...create.

The younger had driven clear across the country, choosing to experience the wonders of a willy willy, wild camels and truck stops where interesting folk of all kinds, including grey nomads, were seeking similar adventure. He found work in a hard-nosed industry where men were tough and intolerant of weakness. Where ships came and went after being unloaded of cargo and sent on their way. The heat was excruciating and the work physically draining, but he plowed through the pain until deciding on a slight diversion, resulting in his current trip away.

She worried about their financial futures. She wanted them to have everything she had fought all her life for but with a sense of security and stability that had eluded her until later in life. She sighed, a small frown finding its mark just between her eyes.

She opened the notebook a piece of paper floated to the ground. Picking it up, she recognized the handwriting of her youngest, and the last paragraph written in the hand of the eldest. Twisting to a more comfortable position on the cold floor, she inadvertently knocked the small notebook on the leg of a side table. As the notebook slipped from her grasp and dropped to the floor, a pile of money fell out and landed at her feet.

Shocked, she reached to retrieve it. She felt the blood drain from her face. Were her boys part of some underworld of drugs and crime? Had they drawn her into the fray? Was she to expect some shady character to arrive in the late hours of the night, ready to extract the money from her in repayment for dodgy debts?

Gasping slightly at the thought, she blinked hard and made a mental note to herself.... stop watching crime shows. Then she read the letter, still in her hand.

Dear Mum,

Don't stress out, this money is for you. The last we were all together was eighteen months ago. We could see how tired you were. We both overheard whispers between you and Iain where you said you needed to drop one of your jobs just to breathe freely again. At dinner that night as we laughed over some dumb joke, the sparkle in your eyes shone just a little less bright. So. Since then, we have been sending money each week and Iain has been hiding it for us. We know you worry about money yourself, and if we have enough aswell, but without your support through the tough times it could have been much worse. Don't be mad at Iain, he sees you're tired too.

Take this $20,000 and spend it any way you want. Not just to pay your bills or credit card. Use it for you. Relax a little. Take some time off work. Go somewhere together and have some fun. Know that we love you and that you deserve this. See you guys soon,

Love,

Your sons xxxx

Tears trickled down her cheeks and as she wiped them away, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she found her husband smiling down at her."They're good boys you know, the best".

She nodded and placed the money back into the little black notebook, holding it tightly to her heart and whispering, "Yes they are. Just perfect".