"I'll be Right Back" Means I Love You

Her smile breaks me, then it heals me.

If I leave the house to do laundry, have lunch with friends, make a 12-step meeting, or escape for a blissful four days in Woodstock, I kiss Mom goodbye.
If she’s sleeping.
If she’s in the shower.
Even if she’s on the toilet bowl.
Yup. Even then.

I’ve gotten half-way down the block & realized I forgot, and doubled back because, you never know, what if this was our last time?

I kiss her and say, “I’m going out, but I’ll be back in two minutes”—holding up two fingers—” two minutes. But Jennifer (or Molly) is here to help you. She’ll play with you until I get back, okay. I love you, Lainie. You’re my best girl.”

I’m never gone for more than two minutes, even when I am.
She’s never left without someone to help and play with.

This morning, I thought she was asleep when I kissed her cheek. She opened her eyes, rolled over and smiled at me. Reaching up to stroke my hair, “Oh my, hi sweetie,” she said, “You look beautiful.” She continued stroking my hair and smiling up at me.

It breaks me / It heals me / It breaks me again.
Those unguarded moments when she sees me, me, actually me, heals decades of broken and scarred and bruised and lonely. A lifetime of self-doubt, self-hate, self-sabotage, of second guessing and what ifs, why didn’t I and maybe I should haves.

When she sees me—and smiles— she pulls me so far back into my childhood, before memories— but I recognize it.

The all the way way back, before anything could go wrong, when you’re safe and your mother is your whole world, life-giving, life-sustaining, she’s the entire world and you’re safe and warm in her arms.

“Oh my, hi my sweetie.”