A son, a mother, and a mutual desire, Love of a mother

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I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of glass shattering. I rubbed my eyes and debated rolling over and going back to sleep. My sense of concern got the better of me and I decided I should at least go see what had broken. It probably hadn’t been an intruder clumsily knocking things over, but it was silly to take the chance on ignoring the possibility.

It was just Mom and me living in the small apartment; a mother and her eighteen year old son. It was a living arrangement that left me with more responsibilities than I really wanted, but I didn’t mind too much. Mom was the only close family I had, and vice versa. We had to look after each other.

I rolled out of bed with a heavy sigh and stumbled out into the hallway. It was a short walk to the kitchen where I guessed the offending sound had originated. Sure enough, Mom was on her knees on the floor cleaning up the remains of a glass.

Mom didn’t hear me approach, or if she did she ignored me. She had her back to me so she couldn’t see me. She was wearing a nightie, and given her position it was riding up dangerously high on her legs. I decided I should let her know I was there before I got a flash of something embarrassing.

“You okay, Mom?” I asked.

She jumped a little and turned her head so she could see me.

“Oh! Sorry, honey,” she said, briefly startled by my appearance. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to bed.”

“Let me help you get that cleaned up.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it. I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself because I was clumsy.”

“Mom, you’re kneeling in broken glass. I’m not the one who needs to worry about cutting myself.”

“Your concern is noted, but I’m the mother here. Me worrying about your safety beats you worrying about mine. That’s just how it works.”

“Fine. But I’m not going to bed until you finish. I’m not going to have you cutting yourself and bleeding to death in the middle of the kitchen because I left you alone.”

Mom laughed softly. She got the last of the glass fragments swept up and dumped them into the garbage, then leaned against the counter.

“I don’t know when you started getting so protective,” she said. “There was a time when you would have assumed that Mommy could handle a little incident like this all by herself.”

“Yeah, well… that was back when I was too young to do any good anyway. Plus, I’ve since learned that even moms can do stupid shit sometimes.”

“Language,” Mom chided gently.

The faint smile on her face betrayed any attempt at a serious rebuke. It was far from the worst thing she’d heard me say.

“Sorry,” I said. “Are you going back to bed?”

“I don’t know. I thought I might stay out here and throw a few more dishes on the floor.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Mom. Leave that to the teenagers.”

Mom walked over to me and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Good night,” she said. “I promise I’ll try not to wake you up again until morning.”

“Deal,” I said.

I followed her back down the hallway to our bedrooms, which were right next to each other. We entered our respective rooms and went to bed. I left my door open. I sometimes wondered if Mom assumed I was masturbating when I closed it. I never dared to ask her.

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