Page 75 of Mine to Worship

“Of course. Can you imagine? We’re going to see our grandchild tomorrow! I can’t wait,” my mom says, dabbing at the corners of her eyes, and my father dips his head.

My mother and I take our cups of iced tea and wander outside to the cushioned swing.

After I take a few sips, I say, “I have to tell you something.”

She tilts her head, and I confess.

“I interrupted our honeymoon and stayed with Aunt Esther for a while.”

A mix of emotions passes in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I got overwhelmed and…”

“You always end up at Esther’s place.” The pain in her voice is a knife of guilt stabbing my chest.

“She told me her story. I was shocked, but I don’t love her any less.”

“Oh baby, it’s not that I love her less... It’s just… it’s complicated.”

Her eyes zoom in on the high trees, her soft face soaking up the sun.

“Tell me, please. I want to understand,” I plead with her, hoping she will open up.

“We’ve always been different. My sister has always been like a volcano, brooding, captivating, a force of nature not caring if she hurt those around her. While I was quiet, wanted to become a teacher, get married, and have children, Esther wanted more, everything. There is nothing wrong with wanting more, but it is if it never fulfills you.” Sadness flashes in her serene eyes and she tips her head to me. “It’s not that I don’t want to have a better relationship with her, but we have different principles and values. I am a bit jealous of this bond of yours, this side you both share. I am hurt you didn’t come to me, but she has this ability to give you space while I never could.” A small smile lifts the corners of her mouth. Her acceptance and love blanket my heart.

I wrap my arms around her and try to make her understand as well. “I love you, Mom. But Aunt Esther’s place is where I find myself again. Maybe because we share a love for art, or because we ended up loving two men of the same family, but I was at a low point and she was there for me.”

“You and Kian seem so happy, what is it you’re not telling me?” she asks, eyeing me intently.

I trail an eagle cutting through the sky with its imposing and precise movements.

“I love him,” I whisper, accepting that truth.

“Still, you could have loved him a little longer without getting married and having a baby after less than a year together.”

“He’s the one, Mom.” Another truth slips past the barriers I have erected, making me wonder if my brain won’t have any other choice but to accept that when you love, you’d get burned a thousand times over, while hoping you won’t. My love for Kian shows me daily that I’d do that.

“The only thing that calms me is seeing how much he loves you. A marriage is a vicissitude of complex feelings and moments. Love has to be followed by respect, trust, friendship, and communication. It’s about balance.”

I turn to her and cross my legs on the swing.

“Mom, have you ever talked with Aunt Esther? Without judgment?”

“Is something wrong with her?” Worry lines crease her forehead.

I place my cheek against her shoulder.

“No, but go visit her, see where she lives, meet her partner, and spend some time with them. You might be surprised.”

“You have become a wonderful young woman. I guess I did something right.”

“Can you make sure I do the same, because I am freaking out?”

She pats my hands, veiling me in comfort.

“It’s normal, Ellia. That’s the first sign you’ll be a good mom.”

The swing rocks us back and forth, and I soak in this peaceful time.

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