THE DAY I MET MY MOTHER

Faith L. Mahaney

Mine was, at times, a lonely childhood. Born in Chungking, China, of missionary parents, I lost my mother at birth. I was two months old when my father sent me to Mother's favorite sister in Morgantown, West Virginia. There I grew up in the house where Mother had spent her girlhood.

When Aunt Ruth was at home, I was surrounded by love. But she was our sole breadwinner and worked in an office six days a week. Left with a procession of hired girls, I felt the loneliness of the big, old house.

In the evening, before Aunt Ruth came home, I often sat on the floor beneath a picture of my mother—a sweet-faced young woman of 20, with dark eyes and black curly hair. Sometimes I talked to the picture, but I could never bear to look at it when I'd been naughty. There was one question always in my mind: What was my mother like? If only I could have known her!

Twenty years passed. I had grown up, married and had a baby, named Lucy for her grandmother—the mother I'd so longed to know.

One spring morning, 18-month-old Lucy and I boarded a train for Morgantown to visit Aunt Ruth. A woman offered me half her seat in the crowded car. I thanked her and busied myself with Lucy, while the woman turned her attention to the landscape speeding by.

After settling my baby in my arms for a nap, I started to talk with the woman. She said she was going to Morgantown to see her daughter and brand-new grandson. "Surely you know my aunt, Ruth Wood," I said. "She's had a real-estate office in Morgantown for years."

"No," she answered. "I've been away a long time, and that name is not familiar to me."

For several minutes, the woman looked out the window. Then, without turning her head, she began to speak.

"There was a Miss Lucy Wood, a teacher, in Morgantown years ago. She probably left there before you were born. You said the name Wood, and, suddenly, I can't stop thinking about her. I haven't thought of her for years, but once I loved her very much. She was my teacher. My parents owned a bakery on Watts Street. They were on the verge of divorce. They fought and quarreled all the time. I had to work very hard at home and in the bakery, too.

"I loved school, though I didn't make good grades. Miss Wood's room was a happy place; it seemed like heaven to me. One day, after my folks had a big fight at breakfast, I came to school late, holding back the tears. Miss Wood kept me after school. I thought she would scold me but, instead, she let me tell her my troubles. She made me feel how much my brothers and sisters, and even my parents, needed me and from that day on, my life was worth living."

"A few months later, I heard a little girl say: 'Miss Wood's going to marry a missionary and go live in China!' I went home crying. My parents stopped in the middle of a fight to ask me what was wrong, but they could not know how great a light was going out in my life. I couldn't sleep that night.

"The next day, Miss Wood again kept me after school to see what was wrong. When I told her, she looked surprised and tender. 'Please don't go way off to China!' I begged.

"' Viola', she answered, 'I can't give up China. I'm going where my heart calls me, with the man I love. But I'll think of you often, and I'll send you a postcard.'

"I'd never had any mail of my own, so that made me feel better. When I told my mother, she shook her head, saying. 'Don't feel too bad, Viola, if she forgets; she'll have so many folks to write to.'

"Two months later, I got a postcard with a picture of the Yangtze River, postmarked Chungking, China. 'Are you still making me proud of you, my little brave one?' it asked. If anyone had given me a million dollars, it couldn't have made me more proud.

"Right after that, my parents broke up and we moved away from Morgantown. I raised my five brothers and sisters, married, and raised four children of my own.

"Goodness, we are almost there! I've talked too much. I do hope I haven't bored you."

Then, for the first time, she turned to me and saw the tears in my eyes.

"Would you like to see Lucy Wood's granddaughter?" I asked. My baby was waking from her nap. My heart was singing. The burning question of my childhood had been richly answered. At long last, I knew exactly what my mother had been like.