The Millennium Issue:
Future
Jo Nelson
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"I'm sorry, I just can't," my mama said, unsetting a place on the lace covered table. Carefully she took off fork, knife, spoon, napkin, glass and put them on the sideboard. "I always remember a lunch at Mrs. Sipes'," she went on, her voice trembling slightly with too long buried pain.
"She said thirteen was an unlucky number to sit to table at once. Everyone politely smiled but no one wanted to miss any conversation. We had too little fun in those post war days.
"I watched her almost get up twice; pretend to be needed in the kitchen. But she had a house maid for that and her manners were too good to allow her to embarrass any of her guests. So she sat there, convinced it would be someone's last party. She nibbled at chicken salad with almonds and grapes and blueberry muffins and sipped iced tea laced with lemon mint."
Her voice stopped for a moment and resumed, heavy with tears. "The
next day, she died."
"Don't worry about it, Mama," I responded too quickly. "I have a lot to do at the last minute with sautéing the tournados and making the béarnaise sauce. Not to mention cutting the swans and filling them with custard. Guess I should have thought about help myself."
She put her hand on my shoulder. "That's what I'm here for; to help."
"No, you're here to be the honored guest. Probably the only eightieth birthday party you'll get from me." I kept my voice light to hide my fears; hugged her as though the now twelve places could hold her to me forever.
~Jo Nelson
Jo taught writing at the college level, conducted workshops, maintained a vigorous poetry reading schedule, and was published in hundreds of journals. She also wrote for children and young adults. Jo passed away suddenly in January. Please see our online tribute to this dynamic woman at Remembering Jo.
© 2000 by Jo Nelson. All Rights Reserved.
© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 23, 2002.