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A crisp chill greeted me as the airport’s automated glass doors whirred open. Clumps of unseasonably early snow lay in patches on dying yellow grass, slowly melting under the wide open sky. It was autumn in Oregon’s Rogue Valley.
I exhaled in relief, at least the landscape looked the same. The airport itself was bigger and more modern than I remembered it. Mom told me it was either commit to major renovations or shut it down completely. The updates made in my absence felt like a betrayal, my past shifting its foundation behind my back.
Looking around, I spotted my mom. She sat in the driver’s seat of her new no-nonsense white Subaru, parked curbside waiting for me.
“Hey Mom!” I waved, feeling my tough exterior begin to evaporate. I’d had to wait a full month longer than I wanted to make this trip. Cameron had stalled out on me, told me he couldn’t take the time off work. I knew he was doing it on purpose to try and take the edge off my anger before I left, but it hadn’t worked. I only felt more agitated, more amped up and desperate to break free.
The trunk popped open and a fifty-nine-year-old woman stepped out of the driver’s side. Just like the airport, Mom had changed too, more wrinkles, more sagging under her eyes, an annoying reminder that none of us escapes the march of time.
She left the door open wide and walked toward me as her car chimed. Being within touching distance from her released an unexpected rush of emotion, that relief that it’s finally safe to let go. My neck tightened while sobs caught in my throat.
“Mom,” I wailed, waiting for her to put her arms around me and tell me everything was going to be okay.
“Oh Sammi.” She pulled me in to her skinny frame. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me too,” I sniffled, tears wetting my cheeks. “I’m so sad, Mom.”
“You will get through this. I promise.” A handful of cars crept past us, their wheels wet with blackened sleet and melting snow. A flash of bright sunshine reflected off the moving metal and burned my eyes. Mom squeezed my arms and gently pulled away. “Come on, let’s get your luggage in the trunk.”
“You look great,” I warbled through the catches in my throat, using the side of my fist to swipe away the tears trailing down my face. I handed her my smallest bag, trying not to notice her disheveled sweater and tired blue jeans. As a child, I blamed my mom’s dull appearance for Dad’s disappearing act. If only she had put on some lip gloss or high heels, bought a new outfit every now and then, Dad might have stuck around.
“Are you staying longer than planned?” she joked, watching me load my two oversized suitcases into the trunk. “That has to be more than a week’s worth of luggage.”
“Better to over-prepare than under-prepare. I’m ready for Armageddon.” After slamming the trunk shut, I tugged my coat on tighter. “Boy, it’s cold here for early October.”
“Well it’s nice and toasty in the car. I’ve got the heater set on high. Your seat warmer is on, too.” Mom smiled with pride.
“I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe this is happening.” New tears fought their way free. Get it together Samantha. Quit your cry babying. This was still a small town, hopefully no one I knew was around. I was a hideous mess.
“You mean you can’t believe what’s going on with Sophia, or with Cameron?” she asked.
“Both, but more Cameron. Sophia’s just acting like a sixteen-year-old. She’s hormonal.”
“I was shocked too when you first told me,” Mom said as we both slid inside her heated car and clicked on our seatbelts. “Cameron treated you like his greatest treasure before the kids came along. I thought any break you may have had in the romance department was just normal marriage stuff.”
I rubbed my hands on my thighs, surprised she had picked up on any troubles in our marriage. “What kind of break?” I looked over at her now, feeling a little stronger.
“Nothing in particular. I don’t know, there were a couple of times I called over the years when he was out late and you seemed frustrated, or he was spending more time with the kids than with you.”
“Yeah, normal marriage stuff,” I agreed, trying not to feel self-conscious about our less than perfect relationship. “Well, I’m happy to be home. It’s been a long time.”
We drove east along Highway 140 through winding mountain roads, past towering evergreens and into the endless blue horizon. A deer stood near the roadside, its eyes fixated on us. I had forgotten the striking beauty of my home state. Gazing out the windows, I marveled at the rugged geography as if for the first time. “Remind me why I ever left this place, Mom.”
She laughed. “To find yourself. Remember? You were too big for this town? You wanted to take on the great wide world beyond.”
I shook my head. “That’s right. I remember now. The Great Samantha Foerster was going to tackle college and become a celebrated writer. I would marry Prince Charming and live the most envied life a girl could possibly imagine. No stepping foot upon Klamath Falls again until I became a living legend.” I laughed despite my sorrow. “Where is my tiara?”
“I can see it. It’s resting right upon your head, Princess, dripping in ten carat diamonds.”
“Yeah right.” I rubbed my hands on my thighs. “Nope, I married a gay guy and became a housewife with a runaway teenage daughter. Not so impressive.”
Mom picked up speed. Sturdy pine trees swept into one big blur of green.
“Disappointed in me?”
“Not even a little bit.” She patted my hand. “Everything is going to work out for the best. Sophia is going through a phase, and as for Cameron, no good comes from sticking with a man who isn’t right for you. Especially not you. My daughter is feisty and smart, and the most determined person I know. You’re going to come back from this better off than you could possibly imagine.”
“Yeah, ‘cause it worked out so well for you when Dad left. Right?” I bit my lip. I meant what I said, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“I told you before, you are not me. You live in a big city, you went to college, and married a man from a rich family. You have all sorts of possibilities I didn’t have.”
“Mom, I gave up my writing dreams and dropped out of Santa Cruz my junior year so I could start my photography empire. These days, I take the occasional family portrait at Balboa Park. Cameron’s parents own our home and at this point, I’d be lucky to get a job working at Sears taking precious portraits of screaming, snot-nosed babies. Oh yeah, and instead of one child, I have three children.”
Mom turned down the heater. “Such drama, Samantha. I’m sure his parents will let you live in their rental house for as long as you are raising their grandchildren. As for work, nobody has to know you didn’t graduate. You’re not applying to the CIA.
Just list a bachelor’s degree on your resume. Make up some experience they can never fully verify. You’ll get a good job and before you know it, someone new will sweep you off your feet and make everything better.”
I tapped my fingers on my thigh. “Who are you Mother? Since when do you know anything about the CIA or lying on resumes? And as far as waiting for the next man to sweep in and rescue me, maybe I can take care of myself. Did you ever think of that?” I looked over at her with a smile to let her know I was at least half joking.
“I just want the best for you, that’s all.”
“We’re almost to the lake now,” I said, changing the subject. “I can’t believe how fast this drive is going.”
Twenty minutes later, we parked in the driveway of my childhood home, a drooping one story structure with faded green siding. The house, which blended in with the aging trees and shrubbery, was much smaller and even more worn than I remembered, an eight hundred square foot box, resting on an oversized lot. Dad had promised to build Mom a real ranch house on this land. Instead he skipped town.
I remembered how dark the place was. Coming here after school, I would talk on the phone with boys in the shadowed corners of my room, while Mom busted her butt as a waitress at the diner.
My fairy tale castle on Kingston Court was in-comparable. I picked my kids up from top rated schools each day and drove them to volleyball practice and math tutors. We lounged at the pristine beach on the weekends with sand as soft as baking soda and splurged on shopping sprees at Del Mar’s best boutiques.
This house and this life, resting under a dreary cloud-heavy sky, stood in sharp contrast.
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited, Mom. I should have come with the kids when they flew out here last summer.”
The deep lines around Mom’s eyes crinkled as she looked at me. “That’s okay. I love having those babies all to myself. This house isn’t big enough for all of us anyway.”
I opened the car door to get out. “I should have come.”
***
Mom settled into the couch with a romance book while I unpacked my suitcases and hung clothes in the matchbox sized closet of my old bedroom. Mom had set up bunk beds for the girls to share on their visits, while Gavin got the sagging pull out couch in the living room. I found it hard to believe I hadn’t been here myself in twenty-four years.
Mom rapped her knuckles on my door.
“Yeah, come in.”
She held out a small gift, wrapped in Christmas paper with a bow. “Remember this?” she asked.
I put my hands over my mouth in surprise. “You still have that?”
She nodded her head. “Well, I couldn’t throw it away, could I? I found it a couple weeks ago when I was cleaning out the attic. It was covered in dust.”
“Wow. I had forgotten all about it.”
“Open it. Let’s see what’s inside of this thing once and for all.” She handed the present out for me to take.
I shook my head as if she was offering spoiled food. “Maybe later.”
“You’ve been saying that since he sent it to you more than thirty years ago. Let’s just open the darn thing. Here.” She thrust it back in my direction. “Take it.”
I turned to unzip my luggage and hang a dress. “Mom, I just got here. Can we worry about that silly thing later? Just toss it on the bed.”
“Promise me you won’t leave it behind,” she said. “I finally got the attic all straightened. It would be a shame to clutter it up again.”
I turned toward her and watched her set it on the bottom bunk. “I promise.”
Mom stepped out of the room, saying she was going back to her novel. Once I had everything in order, I took a seat on the lower bunk bed. Dust motes danced in the corner beside the door, and I couldn’t help notice the window curtains had faded from a once bright yellow to near beige. The room smelled stale but comforting, familiar surroundings in a long neglected space.
I picked up the small box and twisted it in the single ray of dim sunlight fighting its way into my room. The ornate red and white wrapping paper still shimmered. Delicate ribbons remained curled in perfect loops. My father must have had it professionally wrapped before he put it in the mail. It was the last gift he had sent to me. Accepting this final token of his love would mean letting him go.