She had things she wanted to say. To the wind, she guessed. To the universe. To Mom, wherever she was now.
Aggie sniffed around the headstone, then lay down, pressing her back against the warm granite.
Lorna squatted down beside her dog. She was wearing joggers today. Bean had urged her to get some “stretchy pants” for when they sat on the floor and made buildings out of plastic blocks, and as she didn’t feel comfortable bending and contorting herself in yoga pants in front of him, she’d ordered some roomier “stretchy pants” online. She liked them so much she’d gone ahead and ordered a hoodie, because Bean said his teacher wore one. The clothes were certainly versatile, but she felt like an archaeologist squatting like this in these clothes, like she was studying the artifacts of an old grave. So she sat cross-legged—why not? She’d spent the last month seated like this. She pulled a few weeds that had sprouted while she gathered her thoughts. And when she was ready and Aggie was lightly snoring, she spoke. “I hope you can hear me,” she said. “Because I need to tell you something. I get it now, Mom. I needed you. I did. But now I understand why you couldn’t always be there for me.”
If her mother heard her, there was no indication from the universe.
Lorna suddenly flopped onto her back, draping herself across her mother’s grave and gazing at the lead-gray sky above her. “The funny thing is, even though I still need you, Kristen still needs you more than me. Ironic, isn’t it? You’d think I might take top billing for once, given that I was almost fired and put into a wellness program because of my rage and inability to trust anyone.” She sighed. “And she still wins. But you know what? It’s okay.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as tears began to build. Of course they did. But they weren’t tears of rage—they were tears of regret and nostalgia and grief. “First, I need to tell you that I forgive you, Mom,” she said, her voice breaking. Aggie whimpered softly and shifted close to Lorna, draping her head across Lorna’s belly. Lorna sank her fingers into Aggie’s fur. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m ashamed of how long it took me to find grace in my heart for you. And the worst of it is, I hated that I felt that way. You have no idea how much I wish I could have found a way to forgive you before you died. I don’t know what to say for myself, other than I was so angry that I couldn’t really think for a very long time. Foryears. And as much as I regret it, it’s still hard to think beyond myself. But I’m working on it. I’m opening my body meridians.” She choked on a sob and a laugh at the same time. “I’ll explain that some other time.”
The tree canopy began to sway on a breeze. Lorna wasn’t the sort to think her mother was talking to her that way—or at least she hadn’t been before she went to Bodhi—but she could hope it.
“I forgive you, Mom, and I know that hardly seems fair since I was the one doing all the yelling. But I was so angry with you for dying and leaving me with Kristen. I didn’t want theresponsibility of her. I didn’t want to spend all my energy on her. I hated her for what she’d done to us, and to you, and to me, and I need to forgive you for allowing it before I can find a way to forgive myself and the horrible way I treated you in the end. And the way I treated Kristen.” She groaned with the painful memories. “Oh my, I’m so sorry, Mother. I amsosorry. I hope you can forgive me now. Please forgive me.”
She watched the trees dance on the breeze for several moments while she stroked Aggie’s fur. A sudden memory arose of Kristen standing in the door of her room, looking thin and sickly. Kristenwassick. She was sick in a way that had no real cure. She was as sick as Mom had been, an incurable disease that was eating away at her every day of her life, and Lorna had hated her for it.
“I miss you so much,” Lorna whispered, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure who she meant, Mom or Kristen. “And I want to make it up to you. I want to show you how sorry I am for the things I said and the way I acted. You didn’t deserve that, not on top of everything else. Unfortunately, you’re dead, so it’s not going to be easy to make it up to you, you know?”
She slowly sat up and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m so sick of crying. I’m not crying as much these days, because I guess the anger is slowly leaking out of me and I am learning some new coping skills. Mainly, how to get hold of my negative thoughts and turn them around.” She smiled at the sky. “You would love Bodhi, Mom. It’s right up your Al-Anon alley.” She turned her grin to Aggie as she thought about how much her mother would have loved float therapy, specifically. But she sobered quickly, remembering her reason for being here. “I don’t want to cry anymore. I want to laugh. I want to live. I want to know people, and I hope people will want to know me. You wereright—once I faced those moments that had been burned into my brain because of Kristen, I could sort of see them from another angle and let go of the hate I had for myself.” She sighed, brushed her hands against her legs. Aggie lifted her head and smelled the breeze. “Notallthe hate. But I’m working hard to get there.”
She turned her attention to the headstone. “You don’t have to send me a celestial sign, because I already know exactly what you want me to do.” She stood and picked up one of the faded plastic flowers. “And I’m going to do it, I promise. Just give me a few days.” With her hand on the tombstone, she added, “I love you, Mom. I miss you.” Then she dropped her hand and looked at her dog. “Okay, Aggie, let’s go. I’ve got to get to a science fair.”
Aggie hopped up obediently and trotted alongside her to the car.
Lorna drove straight to Peggy’s house. She and Aggie handed her the faded plastic bloom.
Peggy knew instantly where it had come from. “Well. This wasn’t on your mother’s list.”
“Nope. It was on mine.”
Peggy nodded. She looked at Lorna and smiled tenderly. It startled Lorna to see tears in her eyes. Peggy pressed her palm against Lorna’s cheek. “I’m going to guess you’ve got one more thing on your list.”
“Yep,” Lorna said, and smiled. “You’re starting to sound like Mom, by the way.”
“That is a huge compliment,” Peggy said, leaning down to give Aggie some neck scritches.
• • •
That afternoon, Martin, Liz, and Lorna walked down to the grade school to see the science fair. It was exactly what one might expect—more parents than kids, lots of grandparents, and beaming kids. There were egg floats and clouds in a bottle. There was a 3D model of the sun. And there was a kid who had done an experiment where he took two identical plants, talked to one and not the other, and marked the difference in growth. Remarkably, the plant that had been talked to was noticeably taller than the other one.
“How does that happen?” Liz marveled.
“Easy,” Martin muttered. “You go to the nursery and get a bigger one.”
“Martin!”
Martin shrugged off Liz’s chiding and looked around. “There are at least four volcanoes, and that’s just from a cursory glance,” he announced. “Shall we check out the competition?”
“Absolutely,” Liz said.
“You go on,” Lorna said. “I’m going to check in with the master.”
Martin and Liz set off to examine the science projects. Lorna went in the opposite direction, to Bean’s table. It was easy to spot—he was out front in his blue vest with his many badges and his explorer hat. She noticed he also had a flashlight attached to his belt.
She spotted Seth and waved, then pointed to the flashlight as he walked over. “Oh, that. So he can illuminate the inside of his volcano for the judges.” Just then, Bean unclipped his flashlight to show two adults what was inside.
“That’s a lot of mud,” Lorna said, noting the construction of the volcano.
