The Writing Lesson; or, My Exquisite First Lie: A Short Narrative by Max Reddick for My Mother on Mother’s Day

You know, I owe my mother so much.  In a number of ways, she is most responsible for the man I have become.  At least, all the positive stuff.  My mother gave me so many things and taught me so many more.  However, there is one lesson that stands out in particular.

You see, in the very beginning it was just me and my mother.  She and my natural father separated soon after I was born.  And between then and the time she met and married the right Reverend L.G. Reddick, I was being raised by committee in a very rural area of West Tennessee with my mother and maternal grandmother being the co-chairpersons of that committee.

I Think I'll Call It Morning

This is my favorite photograph of me and my wife. It has special significance for us, and as a part of her Mother’s Day package, I’m going to have it blown up.

When this photograph was taken, we had been married two or three years; she was finishing college and I was on my way to grad school. We skrimped and saved all year so that we could take a big vacation during the summer break. We went to Chicago.

But something happened in Chicago. Once we got there, she complained of being tired and fatigued. She didn’t want to get out of bed. Of course I was peeved. We had spent so much time and energy preparing for this vacation, and she didn’t even want to leave the room.

She had gotten a check-up before we left, so we decided to call her doctor who gave us the big news. She was pregnant. We hadn’t planned to get pregnant this soon; we had a whole list of goals to reach and accomplishments to achieve before we had children. But in a moment, all that was changed.

After hearing the news, we decided to get up, clean up, and go out to celebrate. As we readied ourselves, we hardly spoke. We just cast nervous glances and smiles at each other. Later, we excused ourselves from the party a bit and found a quiet corner in the hotel lobby in which to talk. A friend snapped this picture of us.

So, I’ve given you the back story. All that’s left is to give this portrait a name; all great portraits have a name. I think this portrait aptly captures the many conflicting emotions we felt at that time—love, fear, anticipation, anxiety, strength, helplessness. For us it was one minute past midnight, the first minute of a new day. We didn’t know what was to come or how we would deal with the challenges we were sure to face. But at that moment, we were content to simply bask in the warmth of the promise of a new day’s sun and allow ourselves to be soothed by the cool morning breeze of hope.

With that in mind, I have the perfect title: I think I’ll just call it “Morning.” Happy Mother’s Day, baby.