Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 8 degrees, cold, grey and about to rain.
It’s Mother’s Day, and the weather is very rainy, cold, and miserable.
Since I had bought flowers for my mother on Friday for her birthday, buying them again would be a bit repetitive, so the day before, I purchased a Mother’s Day card and one of those surprise Amazon gifts for £3.
It is wrapped in a heavy proof plastic packaging, and you don’t know what you are buying, and that’s the surprise. When she finally woke up, I gave her a cup of tea, her gifts and a card in bed. She thanked me and later said that she was happy because she had enjoyed a lovely time on both her birthday and Mother’s Day.
At lunchtime, we booked a taxi to go to ‘The Green Man’, a traditional old country pub in Swindon, a small rural village about 8 or 9 miles from where my mother lives. The pub is relatively small, with old-fashioned Tudor style, low ceilings with wooden beams, and a large central lounge where all the locals come for a beer or a drink after working on the farms.
There are some small annexe rooms where they serve food and the traditional Sunday lunches. We shared a table with an elderly couple that my mother has known for years. My mother ordered turkey, and I had a mix of turkey and beef; both came with potatoes, assorted vegetables, and the traditional English stuffing and Yorkshire pudding, accompanied by plenty of gravy.
It was quite excellent, very typically English, and thoroughly enjoyable.
One of my faults is that I eat quickly, like a convict who guards his food at lunchtime or dinner, afraid that nobody will steal it. I took advantage of the situation where I had finished eating before the others to go to the other side of the pub and pay discreetly without my mother knowing. She said she would pay, but I wanted to pay. Besides being Mother’s Day, it is only right for me to pay; she paid for the groceries last Friday, so everything should balance out financially.
The desert was a rhubarb crumble with custard, a traditional British hot pudding. You can’t get more British than that. In Brazil, hot desserts are uncommon; people usually prefer cold ones, probably because of the hot climate.
Eventually, the taxi arrived and took us back to Wordsley. During all this time, my flirt, Julie, had been sending me messages all morning and early afternoon. I hadn’t replied; I wanted to distance myself a little. After the disastrous night before, I wasn’t playing games — I just wanted some space.
When we got back, my mother wanted to have a nap in the living room in front of the TV and the gas fire. I wanted to go upstairs with my computer to watch a film, and hopefully nod off a little and try to distract my mind. Although it was nice in some ways, I’m deeply disappointed about last night, as my head is telling me to forget her, whilst my heart wants to talk.
She continually sent me messages, and at about 5:00 p.m., I caved in. She called me, and we talked about her dog, which was not 100% well. Then, she started to ask what had happened. I told her I was frank with her, and we talked and talked and talked.
We discussed her relationship with her mother and what was wrong, as well as the dog’s health. If necessary, and if she wanted to, I would accompany her to the vet. We both talked, and when she spoke, I listened, and when I talked, she listened. After two hours, everything was good, light, and shiny. We made plans for the upcoming weeks, and I felt relieved; the weight was lifted off my shoulders. Although it is raining outside, to me, it’s sunny inside.
What does this little beautiful woman have with me, and I with her? Am I becoming emotionally immature in my old age, or is there really something special between us? Or is it just a fleeting moment, and I am being childish? Is it normal to start imagining a whole future together, even before anything has happened, and when the initial contact or genuine connection was not that great?
All I know is that I like her, I feel good when I’m with her, and she makes me tick. And I think that is good, isn’t it?
In bed by 10:00 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
