Dabbling in Danger

Dinner With Mother

Adeen

"Oh my sweet boy, look at you!"

I smile at the plump, chocolate colored woman sitting in her favorite spot, right outside the house amongst her garden.

I haven't seen my mother in a few months, I feel terrible for it. I normally try to visit every week, but with everything going on, the days just slipped by.

She starts to get up out of her seat, but I get to her before she can.

"You don't have to get up momma," I give her a one armed embrace and she gives me kisses all over my face.

"Oh my handsome son, how are you?" She gushes.

I sit next to her on the bench and wind an arm around her.

"I'm doing alright, how about you, what've you been doing besides watching these birds?"

A couple fly by just as I say that.

She giggles, "just that, I can't tend my garden like I want, so I sit right here and watch it grow."

I look at the growing flowers and vinery. Her garden looks like it's flourishing, I turn to her.

"It looks like it's doing great."

She smiles, "that boy, Malcolm from down the road has been helping me out."

My brows knit together, "Malcolm? Momma you know you could've called me to help with your garden."

She lightly smacks my leg, "I know you're busy, I'm not going to call you for every little thing."

My heart drops and I feel bad, like I'm neglecting her.

"From now on, you call me instead of some little knucklehead from down the road."

She scoffs and starts to get up again, "now stop being an ass," she chastises. "That boy is a sweet kid, he helps with my yard, I help him save for his car."

"Save how?" I ask.

She gives me a look that tells me to shut up before she pops me in the mouth.

"I pay him fifty dollars for a day's work. Anything else Adeen Malachi Hutchinson?"

I can't help but chuckle at my mother and she swats a hand over my head.

"What a fiesty little woman you are," I say.

"Oh hush up," she grumbles sitting on the edge of her seat now.

Still laughing I stand in front of my mom and help her to her feet. Even though wanting to appear bitter, she holds my hand tight in her own and leads me inside.

"Joann still coming by on Saturdays?" I ask.

Joann's the maid I hired to keep the place up weekly. I know my mom gets winded more these days, though she doesn't like to admit it.

"Yes that girl still comes over, messing with my things- I told her I don't like the way she dusts because it only hangs in the air then recollects somewhere else. I said go ahead, skip the dusting from now on, I'll do it, and I still catch her dusting, wasting twenty minutes!"

I shake my head, "she's not going to just not do her job because you're being grumpy. If you want her to dust differently, you have to show her how you want it done."

She continues fussing all while setting up her kettle for tea. Watching my mom move around the kitchen reminds of times when I was younger. I'd sit in this very spot just in awe as she worked her culinary magic.