A Conversation Between A Mother and Daughter

            I created this fictionalized piece after writing the first paragraph that actually is true of me. What follows however, is an imaginary dialogue between two women, a mother and her daughter. I did not know where the beginning sentences would take me. I simply wrote, and when I felt I had written enough, I stopped. I’ll keep this made-up conversation on the back burner and perhaps warm it up on another day.

“When the day is done and I crawl into bed, I am satisfied. I may not be overcome with happiness, but I am not sad. Depression, fortunately has escaped me. I don’t think that living somewhere else, or having some other occupation would make my life better. In fact, if I lived on the other side of the world, I likely would be doing the same things I do now. I have been fortunate.”

Jenny stared at her mother in wonder. “How can you say that? Don’t you want to shake up things in your life a bit? Don’t you ever want to protest something, or make a scene? Don’t  you want to be noticed? Aren’t you bored here, and don’t you miss Dad?”

Jenny’s long, silky hair shimmered in the morning sun that filtered through the window. She was eighteen and restless. She had lived alone with only her mother for seven years. Her father had made his exit the day after her eleventh birthday. Gone. No one was certain why, although her mother had speculated.

“He had an edge to him. Impatient. Angry. He wanted more, more than I could offer, more than he could accomplish here in this tiny, valley town. So he went away. I understand. It took awhile, but it’s all right. I’m not mad,” she had explained.

Martha Miller gazed at her daughter’s face, so pretty now. Jenny clearly was eager, as her father before her, to move on. Martha knew it, and though the thought of her daughter’s departure made her heart quiver with a deep and palpable pain, she did not protest.

“I’m moving to the city,” Jenny said, “with Courtney. We’ve decided.”

The revelation, not surprising, settled in a moment of silence before Martha spoke. “I knew you would. I think you should.” She smiled a tiny grin that she hoped would conceal the threat of a sudden, alien sadness. She would miss this girl.

“Will you be okay?”

“Of course I will. I have my books, my garden, and a few friends here and there. I’ll be fine,” Martha told her.

“I’ll come back to visit,” Jenny whispered, her voice cracking with unexpected emotion.       

“Of course you will.”

Jenny’s eyes, glassy with tears betrayed her before she spoke again. “I may not stay away for long, Mom. My heart is here with you, you know.”

“I know. Go though. Find yourself. And when you come home again, if you come home, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting.”