Yeah, my mom was pretty low. Depressed.
She was reading a book
called A Woman’s Guide to Mental Health.
Whoever wrote this book doesn’t understand
the first thing about women, she said.
Who wrote it?
A man, she said.
A doctor.
He doesn’t know
diddly.
Well, I knew I had to do something to try to get my mom out of her mood.
Lasagna, I said.
I’m going to make some
Lasagna.
She looked up at me
and smiled,
well,
tried to
smile.
How’s school, Jeremy?
I got out the lasagna pan and
spaghetti sauce
and pasta.
I think I’m learning a little French, I said.
And psychology (although that wasn’t really a school subject).
What does psychology say about depression?
I’m not sure
but maybe it happens when you feel
overwhelmed with everything.
Well, that’s me.
Did you learn
how to fix it
so a person
can feel better?
I shrugged and continued to make lasagna.
They say drugs and alcohol don’t work.
A little halfhearted laugh from Mom.
My son,
the genius, she said.
What else?
They say you have to stay busy, get involved
and cheer up.
Do you know if we have any mozzarella cheese?
You sound just like
your father.
Always changing the
subject to food
when he wants
to end a discussion.
Mom, can I try to call him tonight?
You want
to call your father?
How?
His cell phone.
He probably doesn’t
have any minutes.
He probably doesn’t
have any money
for minutes.
I knew what she meant about the minutes.
My dad could never pay regular monthly
bills for anything.
But maybe he does have some minutes, I said.
And she smiled a real smile for once.
Yeah, who knows.
Maybe he has
some minutes.