The Meeting My Mother Had Been Dreading
The evening before my mother was supposed to meet my future mother-in-law, I found her standing beside her bed, carefully smoothing her nicest dress.
She ran both hands over the fabric, checking for wrinkles that were barely visible.
“Do you think Clarissa will approve of me?” she asked.
The question made my heart ache.
My mother, Helen, was one of the kindest people I had ever known. She remembered birthdays, brought soup to sick neighbors, and apologized even when she had done nothing wrong. Yet there she was, worrying that Clarissa might decide she was not good enough.
“Mom, anyone who meets you is lucky,” I told her. “You don’t need Clarissa’s approval.”
She gave me a small smile, but the uncertainty remained in her eyes.
Clarissa had insisted that their first meeting take place at one of the most expensive restaurants downtown.
