Escaping the Past

“Looks like you get to recline while we go across these rocks.”

“Just get me there, son. I don’t care how you have to do it,” she replied.

“I’ve never been to the grave, Mom. Which way do I go?”

Lou caught his eye with a silent question.

“I didn’t come home when my dad died,” he mumbled under his breath.

“But you’re here now, son. That’s what matters.”

The headstone was overgrown with weeds and brambles and showed a general lack of care. Brody bent immediately and began to pull up weeds and remove sticks and old flowers.

His mother looked at Lou and asked, “Lou, will you take Lola and go down to the pond? There are some nice flowers that grow down there. They would look pretty up here.” She stared absently at the headstone.

“Sure. We would love to.” Lou bent and placed a kiss on the old lady’s weathered cheek before they walked toward the pond.

Brody sat down on the grass beside the wheelchair and looked up at her. She touched the curls on his forehead tenderly. “I remember when you were just a little thing and you looked up at me like that.”

Brody rested his cheek against her knee. He looked into her gray eyes, so like his own, and said, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“For what?” She absently patted his head.

“For running away. For not coming home. For not being here for you when he died. For not being what you needed.”

“You were always what I needed, Broden. Always. You were your own person. I remember when you were little and your dad got angry at me because I let you do things your way. He thought you should fit in this neat and tidy little box and we should try to keep you there. You were never made to fit in a box like that. You were made for bigger and better things.” She smiled at him. “You were made for love and laughter and life. You have had all of those things and made your own way. I am so proud you are mine.”

“I just couldn’t make him see…” Brody started.

“He was your father. Fathers want what’s best for their children. If you were on the farm, he could watch you and protect you from things that would hurt you. He did it because he thought you would never go. He regretted it every day after you left, but then he saw you were successful and happy. He was proud of you, too. You didn’t need him after you left. That’s hard for a father to take. Did you know he went to your graduation from college? He stood way in the back and watched you get your diploma. In a perfect world, he would have let you have your dr

eams and let you out of the box. He would have agreed you needed to take your licks like a man while still giving you a safe haven to come home to. But the world is not perfect. Neither was the man.”

“I still loved him,” Brody stated blandly.

“He knew it, dear,” was her only response to his comment. She grinned broadly at him and took his chin in her hand. She shook his chin gently. “But you were mine. From the day that you were born, you were mine. I counted your fingers and toes. I looked into your eyes and I knew you were mine. You were the best baby. A fabulous child. But you were not made to be a rancher.”

“But I like ranching,” he declared petulantly.

“But you love medicine.”

“I’ve had a lot of fun here these last few weeks. I can’t believe how much John has grown.”

“That one will always be a rancher and will love every minute of it.”

“And Sadie and Jeb will never change, will they?”

“God, I hope not!” They both laughed. “And Lou? What do you think of her, son?”

“I think she’s wonderful.”

“And?” Her eyebrows lifted.

“And what? She’s fabulous. She’s terrific. She’s…Lou. Jesus. I don’t know what to say about her.”

“You have to take her just like she is. Because she doesn’t hide anything, Brody.”

“I’m not taking her at all, Mom. Good grief.”