eternal security

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Mom left this afternoon.

As she walked out the door with her suitcase in hand she wielded her multitasking mothering skills and told the fighting kids it was gonna be alright.  The yelling and accusing and revenging and pulling the arms and legs off each other’s dolls and superheroes didn’t have to ruin the rest of their sibling lives.

“We can start over.”

She put the suitcase down and hugged me.  This is the part where she always gets choked up.  I’ve been a mother long enough to know the birth marks of regret, the sagging weight of all the shoulda beens and coulda beens.  “Beck…I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you more while you were here, for missing so much of this part of your life…”

“We can start over”, she said it again.

Now, Mom, we’re not gonna do this.  We got so much packing done.  It actually looks like we’re moving now.  We got that crazy googleheimer wrap on a stick thingy and the pictures are off the wall now and everything.  Besides, you were always there all those nights I called crippled and resigned and unable to take one more hopeless step.

“Mom, just think, we’re only gonna be three hours apart this time,” I said still hugging her.

Not that you can separate a love like that.

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