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Tag Archives: mother and son

Fiction: TV Time (529 words)

She just sat there, continuing to watch TV, as the boy pulled himself up onto the couch, and curled himself into a little ball in her lap.  Once he’d finally settled, resting his head on her knee so he could see the TV too, she looked down and ran her fingers through his jet-black hair, scratching lightly at his hair as she went.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he said in his soft little soprano.

She swallowed hard and took a deep breath to keep herself steady. He’d caught her off guard. She remembered, all those years ago, sitting on this very couch with this boy’s father. He wasn’t small enough to form a ball in her lap, he was all limbs and gangly, so he spent their TV time stretched out along the couch. But he would always turn and twist himself so he could rest his head in her lap, so when something dramatic happened in the show he could look up at her eyes wide and ask her if she saw that too.

But more often than not, he’d just lay there and enjoy her fingers raking through his hair, nuzzling his face into her calf, and ask her “This is nice, isn’t it love?” They spent many of their weekday evenings like that, and her answer was always “Yes, yes it is.”

 

The little boy noticed the silent from his mother, and twisted himself in his lap so he could look up at her “Mamma? Are you okay?”

She smiled, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, and gave him a little pinch on the tip of his nose. “Yeah, baby, I just miss your Daddy today.”

He pulled himself up, using her t-shirt as leverage, and wrapped his arms around her neck. “I miss Daddy too,” he told her hugging her tightly, “But he’s still here, right?  Nana says that Daddy is still with us in our hearts as long as we still love him.  Do you still love Daddy?”

Her eyes filled with tears as she wrapped her arms around her son. “Yes, Baby, of course, I still love Daddy.  Do you still love Daddy?”

“Always and forever,” he answered, using the words his father used to say when he tucked him in at night. “And I think he still loves us. Wherever it is he is.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” She squeezed him a little tighter, planting a purposely sloppy kiss right on his cheek.

He made a groaning noise and cried “Mamma!” trying to squirm away from her. She let him go, and he squirmed himself right off the couch, making faces up at her. “Why, Mamma?” he complained, wiping furiously at his cheek in the process. “That’s gross.”

“Sorry, Rascal.” She laughed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Do you want to watch a little more TV, or do you think it’s time to get ready for bed?”

He squirmed back up onto the couch. “A little more TV please,” he smiled, curling back into his usual ball on her lap.

“Okay. One more episode, and then bed.”

“Thank you, Mamma. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 
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Posted by on May 11, 2017 in Stories

 

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Fiction: New Daddy? (515 words)

Drew still remember getting to watch his mom fall in love again. He remembered what it was like to watch her become happy.

Not that she wasn’t a happy person. He could laugh and joke and play with the best of them. But she was missing something. Before Drew could even remember, his father had died, and that had left a cloud on his mother’s life. A slight darkness that Drew didn’t even realize was there until it started to disappear.

But when Charlie came into their lives, Drew had seen a change in his mother. Slow and subtle at first–but growing every time they saw Charlie. She smiled more. She laughed more. She was just–happier. And Drew remembered thinking he would do anything he could to keep his mother like this.

And he knew that he first part of that was making sure that Charlie was going to stick around.

His mom called him out on that about two weeks in to his plan to make Charlie stay. Drew’s room had never been so clean or his table manners so kind or his homework done so expeditedly. It took a lot of needling for him to admit it, first trying to claim that he just wanted to do these things now—which his mother didn’t even believe for a second.  When he finally confessed that he didn’t want to scare Charlie away, his mom got very serious.

“You are my number one man, Andrew Samuel. Now—I appreciate that you are happy I’m happy, but I am telling you right here right now. If Charlie can’t handle you the way you are—I don’t want to have Charlie. Do you understand me?” It was the voice his mom only used when she really needed him to listen, used so sparingly that it carried a weight that Drew could not ignore.

“Yes Ma’am,” he answered softly.

“Good man.”  She ruffled his hair in a way that made him groan and duck out of her reach. “Now—if you want to keep getting your homework done before 4:30 every afternoon, don’t let me stop you,” She added for good measure. But they both knew who Drew really was, and she’d rather have him back then his homework done in a timely manner.

So—Drew became himself again, and was glad to see that Charlie didn’t seem to be running for the streets at the usual middle school antics that Drew got himself into. And his mom was still happy. Getting happier by the day.

So, when his mom came to him and asked if it was okay if Charlie moved in with them, of course he was going to say yes. He made a joke about making sure that he was still her “number one man,” but he certainly wasn’t going to stand in his mother’s way. Not with how happy Charlie made her.

And yes, it was nice to have a father figure in his life. But it wasn’t about him. It was about watching his mother fall in love. And that was all that mattered.

 
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Posted by on February 16, 2017 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Diamonds (317 words)

His mom was half under her bed, legs sticking out at strange angles. “Mom, come on.  What is so important?”

“Patience, Thomas,” Was the muffled response, and then there was a bit of flailing and she disappeared a little further under the bed.

“It’s not like I have a lot of experience with this, but I’m assuming it’s not normal behavior for a mother to half bury herself under her bed when her son says he’s thinking of proposing to his girlfriend.  Is this a mental break down? Are you having a midlife crisis?”

“Shut your face, Thomas Andrew.”  He laughed at the face he knew his mother was making under the bed, even though he couldn’t see it. There was a bit more rustling and then, “Got it! Help pull me out.”

Thomas stooped down and pulled on each of his mother’s ankles, helping to slide her out from under the bed.  And he saw immediately what she had grasped in her hand.  She flipped the little velvet box open and handed it to her son.  “Are you done mocking me, or should I put your present back?”

“God, Mom, it’s beautiful.” He took the box out of her hands and examined the ring from every angle.  “What are you doing with perfect engagement rings stored under your bed?”

“It was your Granny Marmie’s.  And her grandmother’s before that, if I remember correctly.  But, I figured that if you have half as good a marriage as Granny Marmie and Grandpa Tommy, then you are still doing more than alright.”

Thomas reached out and grabbed his mother, pulling her into a tight hug.  “Thanks, Mom. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t think anything of it, Thomas,” she sighed, standing on her tiptoes so she could kiss him on the top of the head like she’d done when he was a child.  “Just make sure to make her happy.”

 
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Posted by on April 28, 2016 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Little King (196 words)

He was small, but he stood tall.  As he talked with the gentlemen who had come to see him, he fell into a stance not unlike his late father’s—his hands clasped gently behind his back, his chin raised.  As he listened to the men, he had a slight smile on his lips, warm but stern. If you saw any other little boy stand like that, you’d say that he was playing king.  But with young Martin, you could see that he wasn’t playing.

“Anyone would be a fool to deny he’s of royal blood,” Madam Krison whispered, “Barely past his ninth naming and he carries himself with more grace and maturity than men with twenty or thirty names.  More understanding too.”

Margaret gave a small smile as she watched her son across the room.  “He is something special, isn’t he?”

Madam Krison placed a warm hand on Margaret’s knee.  “He’s more than that.  He’s not just special.  He’s exactly what this country needs.”

“I’d like to think so—“ Margaret offered softly as she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for her son.  “I’d really like to think so,” and she turned back to her stitching.

 
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Posted by on May 7, 2014 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Bedtime (463 words)

“So—Then you fell in love and now we’re going to live happily ever after with him, right?” Her seven year old looked up at her with such hope that she had to smile in spite of what she was going to say.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, it doesn’t really work like that.” She tucked the comforter a little tighter around her son.

“Why not? That’s how it worked with Daddy, right?  You met, you feel in love, you had me, and if Daddy hadn’t gotten sick, you would still be living happily ever after.”

“Who told you that, Drew?”

“Auntie Chrissy.”

She made a mental note to tell her sister to be careful about what she said to her son in the future.  “Ah—Well—It was nice of Auntie Chrissy to tell you a love story, but she does tend to simplify things, so try to keep that in mind when Auntie Chrissy tells you things in the future.”

“Oh.” Drew’s eyebrows pulled together in an almost perfect tiny replication of her late husband when he was thinking. “So, you didn’t love Daddy?”

“Oh, no. Sweetie, of course, I loved your Daddy.  I still love your daddy even though he’s gone.  It’s just not as simple as meet, love, baby, ever after.  It takes time, and energy and everyone to be in the right place at the right time.  And I just don’t know if I’ve got the energy or time for it all right now, Buddy.”

Drew nodded, but then sat up straight with an idea.  She tried not to groan, knowing it would be just that harder to get him to fall asleep now.  “Mommy, if I stop taking up all your extra energy–if I try to be better—will you try?”

“Hey—“ She convinced Drew to lay back down with a gentle push to his shoulders, “You don’t take up all my extra energy.”

“It’s okay. I know I do.  Auntie Chrissy says I’m exhausting.  But if I try, will you call Charlie back?”

‘You’re Auntie Chrissy is a gem, isn’t she?”  She worked the blankets back around Drew, wrapping him a little tighter than was strictly necessary.  “Why are you so insistent that I call him?”

“Because you smile more when he’s around.  So, please, Momma, if I try will you try?”  He looked up at her, and once again she saw his father in his eyes.

“I don’t know.”  She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, “I’ll think about it. But right now you need to go sleep.  It is bedtime for exhausted and exhausting little boys.”

Drew gave her a self-satisfied smile.  “See, I told you I was exhausting.”

“Yeah, Yeah.  G’night, Love.”

“G’night, Momma.” Drew yawned, eyes shut before she’d even reached the light switch.

 
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Posted by on March 30, 2014 in Stories

 

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