My mother calls me at work. She's taken a couple of days off the trail because of
pain.
Everyone is so nice, she says,
you have to do this, soon. You'll love the trail culture. People on the trail call her Mum. She might as well change her name: everyone calls her
Mum.
I have the
birthday presents from her in a bag at my desk, so i open them while she's on the
phone. This seems
unreal. When the
rain stops, she'll be back on the trail, and i won't be able to call her. She's told me before that she feels bad that i don't
confide in her, that i don't
automatically call my mother when something happens, when
something is wrong. But mum, i'm not the confiding type. Mostly, i want to keep her on the phone because as long as i'm talking to her i know she's all right. She seems so
fragile to me. She gave me
measuring spoons and cups. She wants to grow me and i want to
protect her. And so it goes,
and so it goes.
But i am at work, so i'm
stealing glances to see if people realize i am not working. I am
distracted when i should not be.