“Daria!”
“What time is it?” I ask groggily, turning over underneath the toasty covers. The memories of the previous late night party comes flooding back to me like it happened last year. My mother hasn’t interrupted my much-needed sleep on such typical a Saturday morning, since her outburst of uncontrollable excitement over selling her first house to the nice young couple down the street.
“Daria Knight, it is five to twelve!”
I can hear her sigh of frustration, but she only gently pulls back my cloud-printed comforter. “Daria, why don’t you get up early just this once, and come out to lunch with me. We can go to Post Corner. Come on, Daria, we haven’t gone out just the two of us for a long time!”
I open one eye. My mother is standing over my bed fully dressed with her Burberry jacket on and her purse in hand. There is no escaping this one, she is prepared for the battle. I groan loudly and gather all the strength I posses to sit up. My mother instantly rewards me for my effort with one of her warmest smiles. Sticking my feet out in the cold open air of my room, I stand up.
It isn’t long until we soon enter the doors of Post Corner Pizza, the savory smells of roasting dough appealing to my nostrils and the sight of people eating making my stomach yearn for some satisfaction. We are soon seated and menus are placed into our hands. After we order a small pizza with the works to share, we begin to actually dive into conversation.
“So Daria, how is school?” I smile sleepily at that typical parental question.
"School is fantastic!” I think to myself sarcastically. "We drag ourselves to different rooms with different teachers with different expectations, learn various things, some more important than others, and then we are tested on this mass of knowledge to test our comprehension as well as our memorizing skills. What more is there to living life to the fullest?”
It’s pretty good.” I reply, glancing at an older couple next to , deep into conversation with their forks paused in front of their mouths. There’s silence for a couple minutes and I take the time to fully inspect each person crammed inside the restaurant, I have an amazing fascination for watching people.
“Daria, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Her silver bracelets clink softly as she places her hands onto the table and looks up at me. Her gaze is one of seriousness and I uneasily anticipate the lecture due to issue forth at any moment.
“Mom, if it’s about the party last night, I SWEAR there wasn’t any alcohol and if there was I didn’t try any!” I look at her with an innocent expression, praying she is in a good mood. Her eyes raise slightly, but she only smiles.
“No Daria, it is not about the party. She thoughtfully picks up her white napkin and places it neatly on the lap of her paisley skirt. She’s torturing me by her tranquility.
“Okay, well if it’s about Olivia, hey I’ve tried EVERYTHING and she still despises me! And if it’s about the high school uprising against my column…”
“No, Daria, it’s about none of those things so stop before you tell me something we’ll both regret. I watch her pull a short strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear in one graceful motion. “Daria, I don’t want to keep you guessing so I’ll just tell you. What we need to discuss regards Grandma. I found out a few days ago that your grandmother has been diagnosed with a fairly terminal form of cancer in her liver.” I stare up at my mother wide-eyed. Visions of that elderly lady who had I had baked with and water walked at six o clock in the morning with flash in my mind from that summer. I can’t believe what I am hearing. How can such a lively and healthy woman suddenly become diagnosed with something as terrible as cancer? I look sadly at my mother. This isn’t just my grandmother she trying to talk so lightly about, this is her mother! “The doctors do not know for sure how much longer she is going to live, but it definitely won’t be for more than one or two years.” She pauses for a moment and then continues. “Frankly Daria, I am scared, more scared than I have been in my whole life. I have always depended on Grandma and I don’t know how I am going to be able to manage with out her. I have tried talking to your father, but he just doesn’t understand the bond between mother and daughter.”
I look at the woman sharing the pizza in front of me. Her hair is always patted neatly into place, her skin is smooth and lightly tanned, her nails are always done, and she forever smells of lilac hand lotion and Joy by Jean Patou. She is a successful realtor by day and a raging tennis pro by night. She knows mostly everyone and everything in Darien, enjoys throwing hit cocktail parties, and serves on the PTA. Most importantly though this respected woman is my mother. Suddenly, I am seeing my mom in a whole new light. Where once she was a strong and independent adult, she now has been reduced to that of a terrified and deserted child. I realize that maybe my mom and I haven’t always had the most caring and trustworthy relationship, but right now she needs me.
I listen to my mother discuss her own love and appreciation for her mother. “I have had this necklace,” she fingers the familiar locket hanging over her blouse thoughtfully, “ever since my mother gave it to me when I turned sixteen. My mother had gotten it from her mother and so on and so on until your great-great-great grandmother was the one who had given it to her daughter.” She tells me how she has wished she has been a better mother to Olivia and I and how she is going to try really hard to do better. She discusses how important it is for there to be a strong relationship between a mother and her children and how no one else can fill this gap. “This chain symbolizes the unbreakable chain of our families mother-daughter ties and their love and devotion to eachother. Someday I will give it to you. I was going to give it to Olivia, but I think you need it more, Daria. I want to be the mother to you that my mother was to me. I think it will easier this way when my own mother passes on.”
I look up at my mother. She needs someone to listen to at that moment, someone to understand and to comfort her. For once I need to make my first step in giving back from all she had done for me in my life. I have to be the one to take care of her now.
I take her hand across the table and squeeze with reassurance. The pizza arrives and the conversation is lost and changes to our plans for Thanksgiving. We laugh and enjoy each other’s company more than ever before.
I don’t think my mother realizes how she also has taught me an important lesson from this luncheon. She taught me about life, love, and relationships. I was reminded of the importance of family when I had long forgotten their existence. My mother and I vow to begin to start a fresh, with a newfound dedication to keeping our bond strong. Together we will keep the love of mother and daughter alive, we will make sure the chain will never be broken.
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