“We’ll clean it up, Mom,” I interrupted.
“Together. But it starts with us fixing us. No more games.
No more letting other people’s words twist how we feel. Okay?”
She nodded, her relief palpable. We hugged, and for the first time in years, it felt like the walls between us were finally coming down.
That afternoon, Mom came over with a bucket of soapy water and a stack of rags.
Together, we scrubbed the egg off the walls, the porch, and the windows.
It was messy, smelly, exhausting work, but somehow, with each streak we wiped away, it felt like we were wiping away years of tension too.
By the time we finished, the house looked — and felt — whole again.
That night, after Ethan and I made grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids and put them to bed, we sat down to talk with a glass of wine.
“Babe, it was your mom that started this whole thing. Gloria called my mom and told her that she was on vacation with us and was having the time of her life. She made it seem so real that my mom broke.”
“You’re kidding, El,” Ethan said, shaking his head.
“She really did that? What on earth was she thinking?”
“I have no idea, but I think you need to talk to her. I need to focus on my mom, honey.
She’s been feeling abandoned for years, and this was just her breaking point. I’m sorry, but Gloria is on you.”
“I’ll call her,” Ethan said, his voice firm. “She’ll have no choice but to tell me the truth.”
Ethan went into our bedroom and called his mother, while I called my mom again.
“Mom, why don’t you come over to celebrate New Year’s Eve with us?
We’re just going to be at home, okay? Let’s just eat and drink and have a good time!”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then her voice brightened in a way I hadn’t heard in a long time.
“You really mean that?” she asked.
“I do, Mom,” I said.
“It’s time.”
On New Year’s Eve, Mom arrived with a tray of homemade dumplings, a chocolate cake, and lamingtons for the kids. She was wearing a sparkling dress that made her look about ten years younger.
Maddie and Noah rushed to greet her at the door, clinging to her legs as she fussed over them. Ethan handed her a glass of champagne and even managed to make her laugh with one of his notoriously terrible jokes.
At midnight, as the fireworks lit up the sky outside, we raised our glasses together.
“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
