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way of tuning out an upsetting world over which had little control.

I didn't see my mother's reaction to my quick getaway, but my father said later that she had told him to just let me go. She knew I was upset because she was leaving again. Perceptively, she surmised that my refusal to say goodbye might have been an attempt to prevent her from going. Before leaving, she sent my grandmother to check on me and to extend assurances of her love. I don't remember anything else that happened that day. I wish I had told my mother goodbye because that was the last time I ever saw her alive.

No events of the following day have survived in my memory except for two telephone calls that interrupted our lunch. The telephone was located in the living room on the opposite end of the house from our kitchen. Whenever the phone rang, I usually performed the task of running to answer it. Somehow, in the midst of everything that was going on, my grandmother had prepared a fine meal of fried chicken. My father, having waited at the hospital during most of my mother's surgery, had now returned to check on all of us. Concern about my grandmother's poor health, and her charge of caring for all the children, had prompted him to return home before my mother came out of surgery. He had planned to return to the hospital after lunch. With my mother's need for almost constant medical care over the past several months, he had grown quite accustomed to shuttling back and forth between the hospital and our home.

The call came just as we had said the blessing. Not expecting to hear from the doctor, my father nodded his silent request for me to answer it. In an instant, I had traversed the length of the hallway and brought the receiver to my ear. A man's voice instructed me to call my father to the phone, so I quickly dropped the receiver and ran back to get him. After speaking briefly with the doctor, my father came back into the kitchen with a relieved smile on his face. My mother had come successfully through the surgery and had been transported to the recovery room. The doctor expected her to awaken at any moment.

While I don't recall the next several moments, they must have provided my father and grandmother with an opportunity to breathe more easily. My mother would probably be in the hospital for a couple of days, and then she would be able to come home to her family. The atmosphere must have lightened considerably as additional servings of chicken and mashed potatoes filled our plates.

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