And the mystery of the missing cans
My mom has always been my biggest supporter. And defender.
When my ex-husband and I separated, I returned to my hometown, where my parents still lived. My brother graciously offered the top half of his tiny home.
My children were only one- and three years old. We agreed that the children would live with me and visit their father every other weekend.
I knew my mom would make herself available to help care for my kids whenever I needed her.
My ex and I had an amicable separation, so we lived in the same house until the move day. We split the assets accordingly, and I began packing for the move.
Each weekend leading up to the closing day, I brought dishes, furniture, and whatever I could fit into my van to my new home. On a few weekends, my parents drove three hours to help with organizing, cleaning, and packing.
As the day of closing neared, tensions escalated.
My ex and I began to argue more as the finality of our situation settled in. We raised our voices. We disagreed. We swore.
He even accused me of stealing. He claimed I pilfered our canned goods.
I thought he’d lost his marbles. Indignant, I marched to the cupboard, removed all the cans, and separated them on the counter. Then I took a magic marker and wrote his name on half and mine on the remaining cans.
When moving day finally arrived, my parents helped to pack the van full of the remaining furniture, appliances, and larger items.
Onto my new life, in a new home, in a new town.
My brother’s home barely fit our furniture. I shared the kitchen with him, but he had his own bedroom, bathroom, and living area in the basement.
After a month of living together, I asked him if I could move stuff around in the kitchen pantry. His canned goods took up most of the room, and I wanted to store some of my own in that space.
“Those are your canned goods.”
At my puzzled look, he added, “Mom put them there.”
Imagine my surprise to learn that it was my mom who had pilfered the canned food. I laughed out loud.
In her loving concern for her newly separated daughter and two young grandchildren, my mother squirrelled away a reserve of my canned foods to stock our new cupboards.
My mom: supporter, and defender.
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