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THIRTEEN
Kayla
I knockedon the familiar door and listened as I heard the movement stirring inside.
At that moment, it hit me how strange this was. I’d never thought there would be a time when I would knock on this door.
For my entire life, it had been a safe place, my home.
But as I stood there, listening to the familiar steps as they approached and looked down at the same welcome mat that had been there for ages, I felt like a stranger.
My mother pulled the door open and glared at me, the frown on her face softened by the light in her eyes. “I know you didn’t just knock on this door. Get in here, girl,” she said.
She pulled me before I could take a step. Once I got inside, I gave her a huge hug.
She hugged me back just as fiercely as I hugged her, and even though she was half a foot shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter, I still felt like her baby.
“Hey, Mama,” I said when I pulled back.
“Hey, Kayla,” she responded beaming up at me. She hugged me again as she spoke. “It’s so good to see you. And you’re just in time for dinner.”
She broke the hug and walked down the short hallway to the kitchen.
“What are we having?” I asked.
“A standard. Baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans,” she said.
“Yummy,” I responded, anticipating both the meal and the company.
“But,” she cleared her throat, “that chicken still has skin on it. I can whip you up a skinless breast if you want.”
I just shook my head as we entered the kitchen.
“Mama, between the green beans and potatoes, I know you used at least a stick of butter. Do you think the skin really matters?” I asked.
She smiled, shrugged. “Well, I was going to warm up some frozen vegetables for you too, but when you put it that way, I guess not.”
There had been a time when her words would have hurt me.
She’d put me on my first diet in kindergarten, and most of my childhood had been her policing my weight like a strict warden. It had hurt deeply, but when I got to high school, we’d had a heart to heart. I’d told her how much she hurt me and asked her to back off.
It had taken a long time to get comfortable with who I was and even longer to get her to understand that she couldn’t change me, and that the more she tried, the worse our relationship would get.
But I’d chosen to give her grace and let go of the past.
I still didn’t like her subtle—and not so subtle—jabs. I went out of my way to correct them, but even still, I never doubted how much she loved me.
And after that had happened over these years, and the position I found myself in now, I knew that mattered.
“Your father is upstairs getting cleaned up. He’ll be down in a minute. And he said something about Todd coming over a little bit later. Should I call him and tell him to come over now?” she asked.
“Um…no,” I said.
She shook her head. “I’ll never understand what’s going on with that. Todd is a good man. He would be a good husband. How could you let that go?”
She must have seen something in my face because she trailed off and then shook her head. “I’ll leave it alone,” she said, raising her hands in defeat.
“The cabinets look good,” I said, looking around the kitchen and making it a point to let her know that line of questioning was not open.
