An Invisible Mother
I looked at my son for a few seconds.
He looked so much like his father when he was young.
The same broad shoulders. The same focused gaze.
But something had changed over the years.
Perhaps it was the way he looked at me… or rather, the way he no longer looked at me .
When Michael was little, he used to hold my hand as we crossed the street.
He asked me to sit next to him while he did his homework.
He always said:
“My mom knows everything.”
Today, I had become a nuisance.
A presence that had to be tolerated.
The perfect in-laws
On the other side of the table, Marlene’s parents were talking enthusiastically.
They were talking about their new apartment with a view of the river.
Social gatherings.
Business trips.
Everything about their attitude exuded the confidence of those who know they belong to the right world.
From time to time, their glances would drift towards me.
Not bad.
But embarrassed.
As if my presence slightly disturbed the perfect image of the evening.
Marlene raised her glass.
“To success,” she said elegantly.
The glasses clinked together.
Except for mine.
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