Mother's Day Blues

The day before Mother's Day the phone rings. Unsuspecting, I answer. My heart falls when I hear the slurred voice on the other end of the line. It's my daughter. She wants something but needed to get high to ask.

"Hello." I wait for her to get to the point.

Small voice,"Mommy, can I borrow the car?"

"No. I'll drive you. Want to come over here?'

Sniffling, "I can't leave him."

I say, "What's wrong with a visit? He's grown up. Can't he take care of himself for an hour?"

"I'll have to ask." She hangs up.

Some time passes, and the phone rings again. This time she's really rambling.

Begging, I say, "Come on over, Sweetheart."

"For Mommy's Day? I'll come at 2:00. 'f I do, can I have a hug?" she slurs.

"Of course you can have a hug, my love."

"K. I love you, Mommy."

She hangs up.

I want so much to believe her.

The next day, Mother's Day, I vacuum and do my hair and wait, but of course she's forgotten the conversation. Probably forgot what day it is. Again.