My mom was crying today. It wasn’t one of those loud cries. It wasn’t as if I was walking through the hallway, past my parents room and heard a muffled scream, as if someone was being tortured and screaming through a pillow. I didn’t have to stop for a moment to digest the events - the sounds, time of day, who should be in the house, who shouldn’t be - then pivot on my right foot, swing open the bedroom doors, run to her on the bed and be a little relieved once I realized that she was crying into a pillow rather than screaming bloody murder. Thankfully, that was not how she was crying. Actually, I wouldn’t have even known she had been crying if I had not been trying to sneak into her room to steal her light pink nail polish to match my floral, pastel Easter Sunday dress.  But, little did I know that it wouldn’t be a small, sneaky venture into my parents room to steal the nail polish.
As I quietly opened the door, I began to tip-toe across the carpet floor towards the bathroom when I heard a faint sound, “Evan?” My head turned slowly to the left, a little frightened after thinking I was the only one left at home. Three brown boxes were on the ground in a circle next to the armiour with notebooks and pictures, in and out of frames, covering the floor from the space in between the boxes, the armiour and the fireplace where I saw my mother sitting, her back up against the fireplace. She sniffled a couple times as she took her hands to her face, slowly wiping away the tears under her eyes, but then rubbed the rest of her face, hoping I wouldn’t have noticed the tears or the sniffle.
“Is everything okay?”
“Uh yes. Yes, everything is great. I um, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to borrow your nail polish.”
She sniffled a couple more times as she pulled the hair away from her face before she said, “Oh of course, of course, go right ahead. It is in the third drawer in the bathroom.”
After digging through her drawer, I finally found the perfect pink nail polish to match my dress. I grabbed the box of tissues as I made my way out of her bathroom. I placed the box on the floor, and kissed the top of her head. As I stood up she asked, “Would you like me to do your nails for you? I can do them right now.”
“No, mom it’s okay. You were in the middle of something, I interrupted you, I can do it myself.”
“No, of course not! I’m glad you came, I love our mother, daughter time together!”
Reluctant to do so as I feel as though she was in the middle of something, I agreed to have her paint my nails. After getting a towel, nail polish remover, and lotion I sat down on the floor in front of my mom. She started off as she always did: she removed the half chipped blue nail polish off of my nails, put lotion on my feet and began to massage them. I couldn’t help but feel awful. My mom had just been crying and at this moment I was the one getting pampered?
“Mom, this isn’t right, I don’t need this. I can do it myself or I can give you a massage. I shouldn’t be the one getting pampered, I don’t deserve this.”
“Evan, yes you do! You completely, one hundred percent deserve this. Plus, it gives me great pleasure!”
“Mom, really! Are you even okay? I don’t have to leave, we can just sit and talk, but you won’t have to paint my nails and massage my feet.”
“Evan, really. This really does give me pleasure. I’m happy now.”
“But what about before? Does it have to do with dad? Your marriage? All the kids?”
“No, no, no. Dad and I are fine and you kids are great.” She paused for a while, no talking, no massaging. Just silence. She looked down at all the notebooks, all the pictures, and the three boxes she had taken down from the armiour. Her left hand let go, and the weight of my foot pulled it to the ground. She reached her left arm across my legs and picked up a small photograph. She brought her arm back, straightened up a little, and held the picture in front of her face, about a 6 inches away. She did one of those half smiles. She wasn’t sad, but rather reliving a moment. Trying to remember the exact noises she heard during that specific moment, her emotions, and what she would have been thinking about. Without moving her head, she glanced up at me with her eyes, then back down to the picture. With a sigh, she passed the picture over to me. As I looked down at the picture, that is when I knew.

“Mom, Dad, it’s fine, I can make my bed later, it’s about to start!”
“Honey, seriously, you about to have a busy, jampacked day, you won’t want to come back to your room tonight and have to make your bed. It will be fast, we can get the whole family to help! Brent, Evan come in here real quick and help us make Meagan’s bed.”
“Okay. Let’s hurry, mom, orientation is about to start! Quick, quick! Evan you go and stuff the sheets into the corner, mom’s got the bottom and dad has the top. Brent, get my comforter. I’ll grab the pillows.”

“Your room looks great, Mea. Much nicer than my college dorm.”
“Thanks dad, I like it too. I’m excited.”
“Let’s take a quick picture before you have to leave us. Meagan, Brent, and Evan, stand next to the bed and I’ll get the whole room in it.” *Click, click* “Oh, that’s great!”
“One last hug, honey! I love you so much Meagan! Don’t forget to call, I’ll only be a phone call away.”
“Love you guys so much. I have to go, but I’ll miss you and I’ll call you when I’m done with everything tonight. Have a safe flight home. Love you.”

With my arms I pushed myself up and crawled over to my mom. As I put my head on her lap I said, “I’ll only be a phone call away.”