Mamma

After 21 years of marriage, I discovered a new way of keeping alive the spark of love. I started to go out with another woman. It was really my wife’s idea.

“I know that you love her,” she said one day, taking me by surprise. “But I love YOU,” I protested. “I know, but you also love her.”

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. “What’s wrong, are you well?” she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news. “I thought that it would be pleasant to pass some time with you,” I responded. “Just the two of us.” She thought about it for a moment, then said, “I would like that very much.”

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel’s. “I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed,” she said, as she got into the car. “They can’t wait to hear about our meeting.”

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. “It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said. “Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favor,” I responded.

During the dinner we had an agreeable conversation ― nothing extraordinary ― but catching up on recent events of each other’s life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.“How was your dinner date?” asked my wife when I got home. “Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.

A few days later my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to do anything for her. At that moment I understood the importance of saying in time: “I LOVE YOU” and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till “some other time”.

結婚21年后，我發(fā)現(xiàn)了保持愛之火花的一種新方法。我開始與另一個女人出去約會。其實這還是我妻子的主意呢。

“我知道你愛她，”有一天她對我說，這令我感到驚奇。“但我也愛你，”我聲明。“我知道，不過，你也愛她。”

我妻子想讓我去拜訪的另一個女人就是我的媽媽，她守寡19年了，但由于我的工作需要以及有三個孩子要撫養(yǎng)，我很少有機會去看望她。那天晚上，我打電話約她吃飯看電影。“出什么事了?你還好吧?”她問。我媽媽是那種認為深夜電話或出其不意的邀請代表壞消息征兆的女人。“我覺得與您共度一段時間將是一件愉快的事，”我這樣回答。“就我們兩個人。”她想了一想，便說：“其實我很想這樣。”

于是周五下班后，我開車去接她。我有點兒不安。到了她的住所，我注意到，她對我們的約會好像也有些緊張。她穿著外套在門口等我。她將頭發(fā)盤了起來，并且穿著最后一次結婚紀念日那天穿的套裝，天使般容光煥發(fā)的臉上帶著笑容。“我告訴朋友們我要跟兒子出去約會，他們都很感動，”上車時她對我說。“他們急迫地想了解我們約會的情況。”

我們去了一家雖不是一流卻很優(yōu)雅舒適的飯店。媽媽挽著我的手臂，宛如第一夫人。我們坐下后，我開始看菜單。她的眼睛現(xiàn)在只能看清一些大字。透過條目的縫隙，我抬眼看到媽媽正坐在那兒盯著我，嘴上帶著懷舊的笑容。“你小的時候，都是我看菜單，”她說。“現(xiàn)在輪到您休息了，該我回報您了，”我答道。

吃飯的時候，我們談得很愉快――也沒什么特別的事――只是簡單描述一下彼此生活中最近發(fā)生的事。我們談得太盡興以至錯過了看電影。當我送她回到家時，她說：“我會再跟你出去約會，但必須是我邀請你。”我同意了。

“飯吃得怎么樣啊?”回到家時我妻子問。“非常好。比我想象中要好得多。”我回答。

幾天后，媽媽由于嚴重的心臟病發(fā)作去世了。發(fā)生的如此突然以至我沒有機會為她做任何事。那一刻，我明白了及時說出“我愛你”以及給予我們所愛的人他們應該得到的時間的重要性。生命中沒有什么比你的家庭更重要。多花些時間陪陪你的家人，因為這些事情不能被推遲到“改天”。