The first time we met, I did not make a very good impression on the Saxophone Player’s Mom.
Doug had invited me over to watch a movie, and she hardly said more than two words to me directly. I was in awe of her, though. She kept a spotless house, which was decorated with her own artwork. She moved with elegance and grace, and I knew I was in the presence of a superior being, She was intellectual, well-read, and a world-traveler. I was so thoroughly intimidated, that at the end of the evening when she implied I would be sleeping over, I was horrified. She thinks I’m a loose woman! I had made the worst possible impression.
Thinking about that evening now, I can’t help wonder if The Saxophone Player’s Mom was not actually perceiving something Doug and I were still quite oblivious to: was she discerning the Saxophone Player’s true feelings for this awkward and painfully self-conscious young woman who didn’t know what a music CD was and drove a 1972 Toyota Corona with a rusted-out undercarriage and a trunk that she kept closed with a bungee cord? Perhaps, she was all ready mourning the inevitable division of her son’s affections.
The Saxophone Player is with his Mother now, serving by her bedside as she transitions into a new stage of life. I am praying the Lord make a way for me to spend time with her, before she is too lost in herself. My Mother-in-Law and I never became best friends, but that wasn’t because she was unkind to me. I was always just too focused on being good enough, instead of realizing I had all ready been accepted.