Page 59 of Raise The Bar
She’s right. I know she’s right. Someone had to make sure the milk was bought and the laundry was done and that someone was me.
“Do you remember how Dad was at first?” I stare at the beads of condensation forming on my drink. My father took an extended leave from his position as principal after my mother died. He rarely left the house, and to this day, I don’t know what he did with his time. Family members and neighbors would drop off food, and he would always join us at dinner to ask how our days at school were. But there was a disconnect for months. The Saturday morning pancakes stopped, and he no longer sang his foolish made up songs while he washed the dishes. “It was like he was broken.”
“I think he had to break in order to heal,” June reflects, solemnly. “It took time, but he needed that time to grieve. You never did that, Mags. You just put on a brave face and kept moving.” She moves her stool closer to me and leans on the island. “Do you remember when I was little and ‘Humpty Dumpty’ was my favorite nursery rhyme?” The question catches me off guard and I laugh.
“Yes, you asked for ‘Humpy Dumpy’ constantly.” We chuckle at the memory.
“Do you know that I was a fully grown adult before I realized that Mom made up the last verse?” My mom didn’t like the ending so she’d make up her own.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again
But Humpty Dumpty did not quit
Humpty said “Never say never!”
With a bit of patience and lots of care
Old Humpty put himself back together
“I can’t say I’m surprised. For such a smart kid, you were a bit slow on the uptake sometimes,” I point out. “You were also an adult when you realized that inWinnie The Pooh, Kanga and Roo’s names made Kangaroo.”
“It wasn’t that obvious.”
“They were kangaroos!”
“Shut up, that one still stings.” She shakes her head, laughing at herself. “What I’m trying to say is we all break sometimes. Sometimes they’re bad breaks and sometimes they’re mild sprains. But we will heal if we take care of ourselves and give it time.”
“So you’re saying it’s okay if I’m a bit broken and it doesn’t mean that I’ll always be?” I think about her words.
“Exactly.”
“Thank you, Junebug. I needed to hear that.” I reach out and take her hands in mine. I squeeze them and she squeezes back.
“Anytime.”
“You know, you turned out pretty wise for someone who used to think all dogs are boys and all cats are girls.”
“If you mention any of these things in your wedding speech, I swear to God…”
***
I’m exhausted by the time I arrive home. Any ambition to roll up my sleeves and make a batch of soap has abandoned me. The spicy sweet smell that hits me when I enter the apartment tells me Betty is prepping her lunches for the week. My empty stomach growls. Please be chicken korma.
“Hey!” Betty calls from the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I made korma.”
Finally. A win.
My nose leads the way around the corner and I open my mouth to tell her I’m starving. The words die in my throat as I take in the beautiful bouquet of flowers centered on the kitchen table.
Callum.
“They’re beautiful,” she says softly. I glance at her as she leans against the counter, my eyes instantly misting over.
