Motherly Surprises

Sometimes you find something about someone you think you know really well--and it surprises you completely. That's what happened with me and my mom when she was in her sixties. I was home from college visiting; as my mother was 44 years older, there was a gap of many years between us.

I was hunting around in my closet for something and suddenly found a row of books on a shelf in front of me. The books were all romance novels--each and every one. 

I knew, instinctively, that she had read all of them and understood why. I think of romance novels are manifestations of the kind of love stories we seek but rarely get. At their best, romance novels are about someone who comes along to save you from your demons, demons in general and yourself.

I've often thought I would like to try writing a novel like this (under the pen name Jenna Budd, since the last name belongs to my husband and it seems to be a perfect name for romance books). I haven't landed one because I think they're probably a lot harder to write than most of us think.

In any case, I am still blown away by the whole idea of my mother loving romance novels. She did not ever seem to me in any way to be a romantic. She was a dominating, larger-than-life force of nature, in charge of pretty much everything at our house.

My mother was strict though also supportive when it came to things like helping me with projects or school work. She was perceptive about people and brave in her interactions with them. She cooked like an angel, swore like a sailor and taught me to do the same. Her temper was excruciating and frightening, though when I got older and left home she became a stalwart friend.

But she was never, ever, ever, a romantic. So when I saw those books, I did a double take and then had to ask her about them. She admitted she loved reading them and said they took her out of her world into one that she found "delightful."

Seeing those books taught me there are so many more layers in all of us than we share with the outside world. I remember having a discussion once with the late playwright Marion McClinton. He said he liked plays that took him to "another world" and I agreed with him.

I know that's what my mother wanted, and thinking about that makes me remember how she'd have company visit almost every weekend unless she and my father went to another friend's house. She had an extraordinary sense of fashion and what would now be called "feng shui" when assembling a room. So maybe she was more romantic than she seemed to be?

Today I realize the answer is yes. I love knowing that as she got older, she turned to reading to find missing layers in her life. I do so hope she found them.