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My Mother’s Passion
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Short Story: My Mother’s Passion
Our country’s International Airport appeared promising from the ground level car park, the size representing a great unruly world that I was yet to enter. My mother and her mother parked the borrowed wheels of their neighbor’s sharp new Toyota corolla tightly among the other visitors. Jim was a generous neighbor and insisted on lending a more reliable car to deliver me to the airport next time.
My mother had brought her mother (granny) along for support as the days leading up to my departure began to form a foreign lump in her throat. I was glad of this, astutely aware of her sensitive nature, history telling me she would crumble under the weight of my goodbye just as she had when my father said his. I was aware of how it felt to be the protector…the man of the house since 8, when my father left for a younger, prettier version of my mother. I was aware of my fathers’ doubts and how he mocked my desires to experience a life in a foreign land. Why would you want to go anyway in a foreign land? He would say. You have everything you could want right here at the Coast. I was aware of the silent jealousy that drove that doubt, and the fear that seethed deeper below that.
It was a brittle morning at the airport, typical for late autumn when the sun was less intrusive but still gave off enough warmth to be welcoming. This change of season was matched with London, my first destination, making adapting to a new climate a little easier on the inexperienced traveler. As we approached the entrance to the departure lounge, a distant roaring of passenger jets could be heard. The muffled engines appeared to rise from somewhere deep within the earth, shaking the feet beneath us. Over here my mother called, focus in her voice masking her sadness…but fooling nobody. Your check-in counter is this way.
Mum, I can check in by myself. Just wait in the food court with Granny while I get sorted out. I squeezed her shoulder gently and gave her a warm look. My mother pushed the lump down hard in her throat as she passed. Let’s get a seat over here her mother said, walking us towards the food court. At the food court, we ordered coffee and took a private table in the corner of the food court, private enough for my mother’s sake. That was easy, I proudly said. Did you get the forms for customs? Yes mum and what about your luggage, the weight was ok? Yep. And did you ask them about your stopover? At that moment it happened. The lump leapt up my mother’s throat, forming an alcove in her chest and making her eyes wet. It happened so fast that she had no time to talk herself out of it. I just have to run to the toilet, she said, her words cracking.
My mother sat on the cold lid of the toilet seat silently trying to have a better state of composure but finding little success. There was nothingness that came with letting go, she thought. The unknown left a space large enough for her to fill it with all of the imaginations of what her son might come up against during his stay in London. How would he cope? She was driving herself into a headspace she was hoping to avoid. There it was, right down in the belly of it all. That same feeling that repeated on her since she could remember. Alone, deserted, abandoned. First her father then her husband and now her son, this was a hardship she fed herself up with many times and my leaving was now filling the reserves of her sullen self-indulgence. She stopped herself, flushed the toilet and opened the cubicle door, thankful that the bathroom was still empty until three 20’ something year old girls came in chatting excitedly about their trip to Thailand, and pulling her out of it. With her composure returning she made her way back to the food court.
On her way she overheard a suited man saying goodbye to his pretty daughter. The petite blonde was well kept and hip high. But the world sat heavy in her eyes. Her mother stood coldly some distance behind her, watching on. But I don’t want you to go daddy she told him. I’ll be back next school holidays petal, I promise and he scooped her up in his large promising arms. So many goodbyes, my mother thought. An all-sorts of emotions huddled together in the walls of the departure lounge.
Ah! Here she is. Granny had been happily chatting explaining to me about his adventures and greeted her in such a collected manner it made my mother feel incapable. And there she sat in that feeling, listening to our cheery conversation until it was time for me to board.
When the speaker announced the flight for boarding, time paused for all of us. Drawing on my grandmothers’ coolness I broke the silence. Well, that’s me then, I said. Wait! Mum I don’t have time to make a mess of things. I began to stand up. Hang on, just wait. I saw her begin to well up again and sat down, trying to contain her by obeying. Mother reached into her bag for a pen and began writing on a clean serviette. Son, the world is all yours go and explore it. I smiled at her as she folded the serviette, placing it in my hand. As I walk towards the plane, I marked the words that were scribbled on the cheap serviette and which marked the beginning of a new chapter. I waved back as I climbed the stairs my heart sunken by the love of my mother
Exegesis of the short story
My mother’s passion is a story about a young man who is about to undertake a journey to a foreign land. From the story, we can see the love of a mother towards his son and which is in sharp contrast to the father’s love. The story also indicates the importance of a good neighborhood since the neighbors are the only people whom you will turn to in time of need. At the airport, the author’s mother is in a deep grieve as she is about to part with his only son. All the same, the mother composes herself and accept the fate her son is about to undertake in the foreign land.
My mother’s passion is a unique short story that depicts themes of responsibility, love and passion. At the beginning of the narrative, passion is indicated from the neighbor Jim who provides the author’s family with a vehicle which takes them to the country’s International airport. Another element of passion and love is depicted throughout the better part of the narrative. For example, the author’s mother calls once they arrive in the airport masking her sadness. She could not stand to see her child living. In addition, the author indicated that he loved his mother’s humanness as she was full of ego and empathy.
Another theme identified in the narrative is the theme of responsibility. The author as a grown up now understands the meaning of being a protector. Since when he was 8, his father had left them for another woman and he was fully aware that his father was not responsible since he mocked his desires to experience life in a foreign land. His mother on the other hand was reasonable and responsible. This is shown when she keeps asking the author whether he had done all the requirements to ensure he was okay. The plot of the study has a good flow that helps the reader to visualize all the steps taken by the characters. The use of dialogue in the plot makes the story easy to understand and makes the reader to indentify the main themes of the narrative. The tone of the narrative is simple and indicates compassion.

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