Three Little Words

It was a call I wasn't expecting from a number I didn't recognize so the phone was left vibrating on the table.

It was my cousin T and in her message she said to call her anytime. So I did.

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded as normal as ever.

"Can you text me your sister's number?" Pause. "I have bad news."

Bad news? Cousin T doesn't have bad news. Her very existence in the world reminds me of all that is good in my life.

"Mom has cancer."

It's the kind of news that makes you go numb. The rest of the conversation is blur of words.

"She's alert."

"Refusing treatment."

"Don't know how much longer."
"She's known for a while."
"We're supporting her in her decisions."

Maybe I shouldn't have called when I had, before heading to bed.

My thoughts went to memories of a woman cooking delicious food in her kitchen. She was always in her kitchen. Always making something warm, nutritional and filled with love. My mom would sit in her kitchen and they'd share  family news while I sat on mom's lap listening to their conversations wrapped in the comfort of mom's arms and Auntie's kitchen.

Memories of my teen years when I decided not to like her very much. She is a woman who doesn't mince words being of good sound farmer stock where telling the truth in as few words as possible is a virtue. I didn't see it like that. I didn't like how she spoke to my mom. I didn't want to see the truth.

Then in my later years, when I came back home to take care of Dad. I uprooted my life for family. Unsure of what was to become my future. It was in her living embrace where I found comfort. In her words I learned to stand on my own.

Years ago she broke her leg and I went down for a few days to help care for her. I stood in her kitchen and made her meals - warn, nutritional and filled with love.