MOM AND HER BABIES


Mom started to have babies

One, two, one on the way.


I asked her why

and she told me the Lord wanted her to give life to these souls.


I didn't like it one bit.


I pointed out to her that the babies were making her tired

and me too

and that our congregation didn't like it

that there were so many of us


and Mom agreed with me

but she felt that she was doing what God wanted her to do

so what more could I say?


It seemed to me that babies were crying all day

and all night

and their diapers were smothering us

in peepee

making our parsonage stink.


Also Daddy was getting upset about money

even though he was making the most he'd ever made

$75 a week in this new church.


He would say to us all

"Where's all that money going?"

and nobody would have an answer for him.


I started to feel anxious

and my rib cage would tighten up

causing me to take short breaths

and making prickles run over my skin


and air raid drills at school made me feel like I was going to faint.


I had trouble sleeping too.

If an airplane droned over our house at night

I would wake up

and lay there curled in a ball

scared

waiting for the scream of dropping bombs.



I was a mess.


One Saturday I came home from my housecleaning job

and found Mom alone

sitting in her rocker

staring out the side window.


I slipped out of my coat in a hurry

tossed it towards the bannister

and ran into the living room to talk to her.


"Mom," I said

"I'm having a terrible time.

I can't sleep at night.

Kids at school don't like me

and I'm afraid of bombs."


Mom reached out and took my hand

and folded it in hers

and floods of warm love shot through me.


"Lynna-girl," she said

"I'm having the same problems."


She left off talking

and stared out the window

and kept my hand folded in hers.


I knelt by her rocker

and stared out the window with her

at the blank white cold silent nothingness

of a New Jersey winter.


My hand

wrapped in her little warm ones

grew limp and calm and quiet.


Then a baby cried

upstairs

and we both jumped

startled at the intrusion


and Mom let go of my hand and said,


"Run up and change his diaper while I warm up his bottle."


That was the last time I was ever alone

with my beautiful little Mom.


And it was the last time she ever called me

Lynna-girl.




Music Playing: Cat's in the Cradle
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This story is a continuation of Diary of a Preacher's Daughter.
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