Preparing for Takeoff

It must be a matter of gender. Last year, Pat crossed this same threshold and it never crossed my mind that he was tiptoeing across an imaginary line with enormous importance.  I suppose it is significant that he is a boy.  I have no idea what my brother Joe experienced when my mother left. I have no "male child perspective."  I do know that he remained confused (and very likely developmentally arrested) for a very, very long time. But he lived with Dad, like I did, so he had his ship to steer by.

But Hil, Oh My God, Hil. I look at her and wonder what on God's green Earth she would do if I vanished. We are so close. She needs so much from me. She gets so much from me. She seeks so much from me.  I can not imagine turning and walking away and leaving her behind.  I can barely handle shared custody!  And she can walk to my house from the house she lives in with Lars so she can drop in any time. And does!  How did my mother move out and move outside our reach so casually?  With so little regard for us? How didn't she die inside?

I remember looking at a house with her before she actually boarded her broom for takeoff.  We were supposed to be "going to Mass" which was generally code for "Mom has a nefarious, secretive errand or self-serving mission to accomplish that Dad can know nothing about, so the hour that we would spend in Mass is taking on a much more interesting purpose." We drove to the house. It was adorable. A cute cape cod that was neat as a pin and beautifully decorated. The woman that lived there had been widowed young. She was a little older than Mom. She was looking to take a roommate.

I was thrilled. The woman was darling and so was the house. Rent was within Mom's meager price range and the place had everything she needed. It was also just a few blocks away. I would pass by on my way to church one those Sundays when I walked there with some of the neighborhood kids. And it was a block away from my friend Carolyn.

Of course Mom had other ideas. Came up with a variety of complaints. Chief among them was that the woman would "drive her nuts." Probably because Mom was looking to live the party life and this woman had obviously let her priorities mature as she did.

In the end, Mom chose to share a house with a whacko that she coincidentally had gone to high school with.  She was bizarre but kind and entertaining. And she had three yappy beagles with names like "Cher" who crapped all over the kitchen, which was the only room not decorated entirely in royal blue, mirrors, gilded surfaces and red roses. It was like a Vegas whore house. Probably what appealed to Mom.

But the big selling point was probably the location.  Close enough, but well beyond reasonable after school walking distance. If Mom was going to see us, it would be on her terms.

And since this was years before the advent of multiple land line phones and decades before car phones and cell phones, Mom had to share the house phone with other tenants. A fine excuse to never call and never answer.

She planned her escape. And she executed flawlessly.