蘇珊·B.威爾遜/Susan B.Wilson
My mother and I are deeply connected by our uncanny ability to silently communicate with each other. Fourteen years ago, I was living in Evansville, Indiana,800 miles away from my mother-my confidante, my best friend. One morning, while in a quiet state of contemplation, I suddenly felt an urgent need to call Mother and ask if she was all right. At first I hesitated. Since my mother taught fourth grade, calling her at 7：15 A.M.could interrupt her routine and made her late for work. But something compelled me to go ahead and call her. We spoke for three minutes, and she assured me that she was safe and fine.
Later that day, the telephone rang. It was Mother, reporting that my morning phone call had probably saved her life. Had she left the house three minutes earlier, it’s likely that she would have been part of a major interstate accident that killed several people and injured many more.
Eight years ago, I discovered that I was pregnant with my first child. The due date was March 15.I told the doctor that was just too soon. The baby’s due date had to fall between March 29 and April 3 because that was when my mother had her spring break from teaching. And of course I wanted her with me. The doctor still insisted that the due date was mid-March. I just smiled. Reid arrived on March 30.Mother arrived on March 31.
Six years ago, I was expecting again. The doctor said the due date was toward the end of March. I said it would have to be earlier this time because-you guessed it-Mother’s school break was near the beginning of March. The doctor and I both smiled. Breanne made her entry on March 8.
Two-and-a-half years ago, Mother was fighting cancer. Over time, she lost her energy, her appetite, her ability to speak. After a weekend with her in North Carolina, I had to prepare for my flight back to the Midwest. I knelt at Mother’s bedside and took her hand.“Mother, if I can, do you want me to come back?”Her eyes widened as she tried to nod.