He kissed me softly in the moonlight, and then he pressed his forehead to mine.
“I would have put your mind at ease,” he promised.
“You have now,” I told him.
“After tomorrow, love, nothing changes between us.”
“Nothing?”
“Our child has chosen his mate. He’s found the woman who makes his heart happy. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for him: happiness.”
“You’re right,” I nodded. That was what we’d both hoped for when it came to raising Matthew.
“The way I feel about you has never changed, Helena.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he said quietly.
“I guess I’ve just been worried that with Matthew gone, I’ll lose sight of who I am.”
“Because you’ve found your identity in being a mom?”
“Pretty much,” I nodded, still embarrassed. It didn’t seem to make a lot of sense, and in some ways, it didn’t seem very fair. Everyone knew you couldn’t find your validation in your kids. Everyone knew that. We were supposed to find validation in other things, better things.
We were supposed to have hobbies and relationships that didn’t center on our children, but everyone did this. We all made these mistakes, and it was frustrating and hurtful.
“You’ve found your identity in other things, too,” Bob said gently.
“Like what?”
A dog barked, and we looked over to see a small blue heeler pawing at the screen door of the house he lived at. He was obviously bothered that Bob and I were standing there talking when we shou
ld have been walking.
“Come on,” Bob chuckled, taking my hand. “We’d better go before our new friend gets upset.”
He took my hand and led me farther down Main Street. We were quiet for the next block as we passed other houses. There were cars parked along the curb and most of the lawns were just a smidge overgrown, but neither one of us cared.
Finally, when we reached the next block, we were surrounded by little shops, and we were almost to Granny’s restaurant. Soon we were going to be back in the spotlight, and we’d be back in the position to talk about how wonderful our kid was and how happy we were for him.
It was going to be a lot of fun. We had a wonderful menu selected, and Matthew and Dora were both wildly happy, but Bob still hadn’t answered my question.
What did he think I’d found my identity in?
“Bob?”
“I want you to do something for me,” he said.
“Okay.”
Anything. I would do anything for him.
“Close your eyes.”
We stopped walking, and I closed my eyes. I heard him move around to face me, but I kept my eyes shut, just for him.
“I want you to pretend it’s 30 years ago,” he whispered.