An Unexpected Return

She stares at the black and white picture of her mother as a toddler that has adorned the living room wall of the family farm house for as long as she could remember. The frame a sort of metal with curlicues running throughout. It had always seemed overly grandiose. Now, you would just throw a plain black frame from Michael’s around the photo. Or you would order the picture to be printed on a canvas through Shutterfly. That is if you could even be bothered to print it at all. Most of Maria’s thousands of photos of her kids sat neglected in her iPhone photo album. She doubted they’d ever see the light of day. Maria’s gaze turns to the small squeaky puppy that her mother grasped tightly in her pudgy, two year old hand. She smiles as she remembers the story her mom always told about how this picture was taken right after her adoption. Maria’s grandparents so delighted that their years-long quest for a child had finally reached a happy conclusion that they rushed to capture it on film. Shortly thereafter Maria’s mom flushed her first toy down the toilet at the farm. The orphanage, after all, had no indoor plumbing. So the little girl had no idea what would happen to her little puppy once she flushed.

“What are you looking at?”

Maria is startled by her mother’s surprisingly quiet entry into the room. Going on eighty, Makayla’s entry into any room could hardly be described as stealthy.

“Just this picture of you as a baby. You look so angelic in your pink and white checkered dress. And just look at your beautiful, brown curls.”

“Hmph. I don’t know about angelic.” Ever the mathematician, Makayla was not prone to flowery descriptions. “Speaking of babies, what have you done with yours?”

“Oh, they are out exploring the field. They needed to stretch their legs after the drive.”

“You think that’s safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be. I spent my childhood exploring these hundred acres.”

“Yeah, but the farm was a working entity then. The fields were regularly mowed and the equipment wasn’t abandoned and rusty. What if they go up in the hayloft. A board could come loose and they could fall and kill themselves.”

Maria can’t stop herself from wincing and even the unsentimental Makayla can’t help but realize she is being insensitive.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Maria shakes her head. “It’s fine. We can’t tiptoe around the fact that I’m newly widowed forever can we?”

“Yeah, I guess not. Can I ask what you’re doing here, Maria? When we spoke at the funeral you said you were going to stay in Chicago. You didn’t want to make any sudden changes while the kids were still grieving. Have you changed your mind?”

“I honestly don’t know. I just couldn’t stay in that house another minute. Wandering through the halls after the kids went to bed looking at all the family pictures. Wondering if I had missed any signs. If I could have gotten him to a doctor sooner. The absence of Matt felt so profound I could barely breathe.”

Overcome with sadness, Maria takes a seat on the sturdy, white couch. She can still remember the summer her mom bought it as part of her downstairs renovation project. Maria being a preteen by then, her mom felt comfortable buying new furniture without fear of stains. Makayla takes a seat on the matching rocking recliner across from her. Makayla can picture her grandma sitting in that same chair. Of course the chair dwarfed her grandmother who, at ninety, stood no more than five feet tall and weighed maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet.

“So is this just a visit? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have you all here. I’m just trying to figure out what the plan is.”

Maria sighs. She was going to have to have this discussion at some point. She was just hoping for a few days of suspended reality beforehand. “I put the house on the market, Mom. I quit my job. Let’s just say this is going to be a particularly long visit.”

“Do the kids know?”

Maria laughs half heartedly. “I think when we put all our furniture in storage, they got the gist.”

A long silence falls between them as they both try to envision how the next few months will unfold. The silence is broken by the ear splitting scream that can only be followed by ambulance sirens.