The Question

It wasn't a question she wanted to ask, but it had been years, and nothing had changed. He still didn’t have a job. For a while, he had been helping his father, but that didn’t last. Nothing lasted. She had been patient, but face it, he was 30 years old. He still lived at home with his parents. She was still cooking for him, cleaning up after him, feeding him. He had no prospect for marriage. Who would marry him? He had no income, no property, no education, no trade, no interest in making money. He could barely be bothered to change his clothes or take a shower. She wouldn’t marry him, and she was his mother.

She had waited patiently, much more patiently than most mothers would have. Why? Because when he was a baby, some guy had tested him. Said he had aptitude. Said he was going to be something. She had believed him. What was she thinking? Who can tell if a baby has aptitude? And aptitude for what? For being lazy? For sleeping late?

She should have asked this question a long time ago. She asked it many times in her mind. It was a simple question. When? That’s all she wanted to know. When? He was 30 years old for God’s sake. When?

Today was the final straw. Rose had invited them to her daughter Tiffany’s wedding. She was getting married to a fancy banker. Brad, she thought his name was. He worked on Wall Street. Made a ton of money. The two strutted around the hall like peacocks. 

She couldn’t wait for the reception to end. She was frankly embarrassed. As usual, he was wearing clothes that were three days old. As usual, he hadn’t showered or shaved in as many days. They sat together at a table by themselves. The other guests had discretely moved away. She didn’t blame them. 

She had had enough. She braced herself. She leaned over the empty wine glasses and dinner plates. She looked him in the eyes and asked her question. “When?”

He pretended not to understand. She repeated the question. “When?”  “Not yet”, he replied. “Not yet.” She was angry, and was about to repeat the question a third time when she was interrupted by a waiter. Ralph, his nametag said. “Can I get you anything,” asked Ralph. Ralph kept his distance, she noticed. “I’ll have another wine,” she replied. “Red.” Ralph backed away. 

She leaned over and asked her question again. “When?” Before he could answer, Ralph returned. “I’m sorry,” he said, “we are out of wine. Can I get you something else?” Before she could answer, her son stood up. He stood straight and tall. She had never noticed how tall he had grown. He looked directly at Ralph. “Check again,” he said. “You have plenty of wine. Go and look.”

Ralph shook his head, but did as he was told. He returned, carrying a glass of red wine. “I don’t get it,” he said. “One minute ago, the wine cabinet was empty, not a bottle, not a drop. Now it’s full. Completely full.” Ralph looked at her son. “How could you possibly have known that?” He didn’t answer.  He just leaned over the table. He looked directly in his mother’s eyes. He took her hands in his. “Now,” he said. “It begins now.”

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Spiritual questions:

• What have you been called to do that you have not done yet?
• When?
• What begins now?

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This is one of my Parables for the Spiritual but not Religious Series.

August 20, 2020 - This was written with the Roundhouse Writing Group in Santa Cruz, Guatemala, remotely from Guanajuato, Mexico. The writing prompt for the session was: It wasn't a question she wanted to ask.

The photograph is by Marcia O'Connor and made available through Flickr and Creative Commons, some rights may be reserved.

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