Northern Lights

Following dreams

I’ve TRIED HARD not to let her WEIGHT become another BATTLEGROUND

Ems, could you please turn that down…” I check myself, standing in the hallway outside her bedroom and tone down my voice.

She’s had her music blaring for an hour and I’ve already asked her to lower the volume once. Not everyone enjoys the same music, I told her – but as usual, she doesn’t seem to have paid me any mind.

“Ems.” I pop my head around her door. As expected, she’s lying on her back on the bed, eyes blissfully shut, while the headphones I purchased a while back lie, unused beside her. I wish I hadn’t bought them, now. “Please turn it down.” She sighs exaggeratedly, and then leans over to lower the volume on her laptop. I don’t want an argument. Especially not just days before she’s due to leave. Only one week to go, I tell myself, and I’ ll have the house entirely tomyself. People keep telling me I’ll feel sad when she goes, but things have been so edgy between us lately. I’m looking on the positive side.

No more going into the bathroom to discover gel bottles left upside down in the shower, their contents dripping all over the place. No toothpaste tubes scrolled up to the very end and discarded, unreplaced, on the side of the sink. No soaking towels thrown carelessly onto the bathroom floor for someone else to retrieve. Seriously, did she live in a hotel in another incarnation?

“Thank you.” I stand there awkwardly for a moment, aware that now I’ve got her attention. Perhaps this tension is partly my fault? I never have been able to tell her how upset she makes me, sometimes.

“Fancy joining me for a spot of lunch, then?” I offer.

Her eyes, heavily lined with her usual kohl, flicker towards me with the faintest show of interest. “Are you going somewhere special?” “Oh, I’m not going out,” I clarify rapidly. “I was just planning to have some homemade butternut squash soup with a crusty roll.”

If I was hoping to tempt her with my homemade soup – which she used to love, incidentally, having found the recipe for me herself during her vegetarian phase – I fail miserably.

“I’m not a fan of your butternut squash soup.” She looks over towards the window languidly. “You put too much salt in, or something.”

Of course, as a staunch “can’t cook, won’t cook” advocate herself, it’d be difficult for Ems to identify exactly what was wrong with my soup, in her eyes.

“I could whip you up something else.” I keep my voice deliberately level. “Whatever you like.”

She needs to eat something, that’s for sure. I try not to gawp at her tiny frame as she gets up and goes to look out of the window. Her weight’s been another ongoing issue recently.

I’ve tried hard not to let it become another battleground between us. She’s old enough to make her own choices but when someone lives under your roof, it’s hard not to feel responsible for them.

“No thanks,” she decides now. “I’m not very hungry, actually.”

Fine. I try another tack. “It’s such a beautiful day, isn’t it? I was thinking, maybe we could take a walk into town or wander down by the park. We should take advantage of the day, somehow, don’t you think?”

“I’m not an infant.” Ems turns her pale green eyes on me now, and I sense her slight amusement. “You don’t need to wheel me out for some air, y’know.”

“Of course I don’t! I was just… as you’re off so soon, I thought it might be nice for us to…” I shrug, trying not to feel stung. “I don’t know, talk. Make some memories?”

Ems laughs now, a long, horsey laugh that shows what she thinks of that.

“Memories of what? Eating a sarnie and ice-cream cone at the park?”

“We don’t have to…” I open up my hands helplessly.

“If you’re planning on going out, I know someone who could do with a little walk, though.” She clicks her fingers and her Yorkie terrier obediently appears at her bedside. He sits down, wagging his tail at her. “He hasn’t been out yet today.” She smiles. I stare at him. Alfie. Yet another purchase she inveigled me into and which I succumbed to, even though I knew it was a very bad idea.

Iput off my own lunch for a bit to take him out. I’ve lost my appetite and suddenly, I really need to get out of the house. My friend-from-the park, Lou meets me as I nearly bump into her, steaming across the path. “Whoa!” she laughs. “Sorry, Lou.” I pull out Alfie’s ball and throw it as far away as I can muster. “I’ve had it up to here, today, that’s all.”

“Is this about Ems? She’ll be out of your hair soon enough, won’t she?”

I nod. “We’ve been rubbing each other up the wrong way for weeks, now.” Then I add, “She’s become so…

contrary, Lou. I hardly recognise her. She was the one who encouraged me to buy Alfie and now she won’t even take him out for a walk.”

Lou reminds me with a grin, “It’ll be down to you when she’s gone, too.”

“I know! I don’t even like Yorkies.” I look down at Alfie’s hopeful little face as he drops the ball at my feet. That didn’t take him long, did it? I throw his ball again, really hurling it this time, imagining all my cross feelings from earlier going with it. “Why did I ever agree?” I lament. Lou looks at me pensively. “You knew you’d only have her at home for so long and you wanted to make her happy, I guess?”

“Well, it was a bad idea – that’s all I’m saying.” Lou pulls a soft smile. “Maybe she’s just starting to make her separation from you – and Alfie too? It’s not going to be easy for her, leaving both of you behind.”

“She seems happy enough to be going.” I pull a face.

“Well, talking to you, anyone would imagine you were thrilled about it, too!” My friend balls her fists and shoves them deep into her cardigan pockets. “You want to know what I really think?”

For the FIRST TIME in ages, I can feel a WARM, excited glow in my TUMMY

“Go for it.” I raise an eyebrow. “I think you’re both scared and sad, as well as being aware that this’ll be a time of new opportunities for you both as you each go your own way.”

“Huh.” I say. For some reason my reply to her comment has just stuck in my throat.

“You know,” she carries on. “I got a bit like this around the time my two left for uni. It was so odd, suddenly having the house all to myself. No one to cook for, no one to pick up or drop off. All the routines I’d got used to, they all suddenly disappeared. It took a little adjustment, that’s all.”

I frown. “I hope you aren’t suggesting I’m going through some manifestation of empty nest syndrome, Lou?”

“Couldn’t it be that’s what you’re dreading?”

“I’m not dreading anything. I already told you… I think we’ll both be very relieved.” I take out a tissue from my pocket and dab at my eyes and then blow my nose for good measure, just in case she thinks I’m getting upset or anything. Because I’m not. That sore throat I’m starting to feel isn’t because of all those words I’ve got stuck in my throat that I just don’t know how to say.

“I must be getting a cold,” I tell Lou.

“What you need,” Lou comes back after some thought, “is to have something you’re looking forward to, already in place.” “Like what?” Alfie’s back, quietly wagging his tail at my feet. I bend down to pat his head appreciatively. I don’t like Yorkies, but he’s such a cutie. Well, OK, I like him.

Lou beams. “You’ve always wanted to see the Northern Lights, haven’t you? Why not come along with our holiday club group, when we go?”

Her suggestion takes me by surprise. It’s true that for years it’s been somewhere I said I’d want to visit some day. It’s just that with my work at the school canteen and then looking after Ems and the rest of life’s demands, I’ve never had the time or the funds.

“One of our group has had to drop out,” she tempts me. “And he’s offering to sell his place for half price – so here’s your chance.”

From out of nowhere, her suggestion rapidly takes root in my imagination. For the first time in ages, I can feel a warm, excited glow in my tummy. If the holiday’s going at half price I might just be able to afford it, too.

I bite my lip. “And… you definitely get to see the Aurora Borealis?” Lou laughs. “You might not. I know someone who drove out to the Arctic Circle five nights in a row and never saw them. That’s life. On the other hand, you might see them every day. But you certainly won’t if you don’t come.”

We’ve started walking again, Alfie and her dog playing together on the path up ahead of us.

“Let Ems go with a glad heart,” Lou tells me feelingly. “You’ve had enough time together. It’s time for her next phase and it’s also time for yours.”

She could be right. I’ve been putting so much energy into sorting out Ems’ new place and all the things she’d need, I’ve not given a moment’s thought to myself. Perhaps it’s time I changed that?

And I am feeling sad about Ems going. Even though we’ve been driving each other up the wall recently. You can’t have shared as many memories as we have – good and bad – without feeling a pang at impending separation.

That doesn’t mean I won’t have any future of my own once she’s gone.

“OK.” I make my decision. “Put me down for a place, Lou.”

Lou claps her hands. “Let’s get you in, then. Before he sells the place to someone else. I’ve got this app on my phone that allows you to transfer funds. We can do it right here and now!”

Caught up in the moment, I can almost hear Ems saying, when I tell her, It’ s absolutely crazy. It’s all so sudden; I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel any trepidation, but I’m also so excited I could burst! Here’s my chance to do something I’ve longed to do for years, being handed to me on a plate.

By the time I get home, Ems is upstairs on her bed, asleep. I tiptoe in, not wanting to disturb her, only meaning to pull the duvet up over her slight frame so that she won’t get cold.

Asleep like this, my motherin-law looks so much younger than her years, reminding me of my late husband, Harry. I remember how deeply his loss affected each of us in our own way, and a wave of sadness washes over me.

“Hello.” Ems opens her eyes and unexpectedly smiles as I make to move away from the bed. “You’ve been gone a while.”

“Did you miss me?” I sit down on the

Maybe SPENDING our energy getting CROSS is a way of not feeling SADNESS

edge of her bed, feeling the old tenderness towards her resurface.

“I called out for you but you’d already gone,” she says quietly now. Then she adds, “I’d like some of your delicious soup, please. I’m sorry I was so grumpy and made all that fuss before.”

“Oh, you’re all right –” I begin, but she carries on over me.

“I know I must feel such a burden to you, making the mess around the place that I do. And sorry about the music blaring before,” she adds quietly. “The headphones don’t work so well with hearing aids, you see.” “Oh. I didn’t realise that.” “I didn’t like to say. You’d think you’d wasted your money on them.”

“Don’t worry. And you’re never a burden,” I reassure her. “I’m sorry you missed me. You would have enjoyed the walk out, it was so sunny today.” I take in a deep breath. “Actually, I was very glad I got to take Alfie out. I met a friend and she’s persuaded me to go away with her on a holiday – something I’d never have done otherwise.” I look at her tentatively. Then I tell her.

“I’m off on a trip to see the Northern Lights. I’ve booked it already, in fact. That’s why I took a little longer than expected.” I wait for her inevitable comeback, about “buy in haste, repent at leisure” and how I’ve probably made a big mistake, but instead Ems’ face creases into a soft smile.

“It’s time for you to go and have some adventures of your own after all these years you’ve sacrificed for me. I understand that.”

“Hey. I know we can both rub each other up the wrong way at times, but still…” The strange aching in my throat is back again, but I say the words. “The time we’ve spent together has been entirely my privilege.”

“I’ve long wanted to see the Northern Lights again,” she confesses now. She has? I feel my heart sink a little. I couldn’t get her in on the trip now even if I wanted to.

“I’ve only ever seen videos, but there’s something very magical about them,” I agree. “I’ve wanted to go for ages…” I look at her sideways. “You’re such a dark horse, Ems. I never knew you’d been to see the Northern Lights.”

“All the time,” she remembers happily. “We used to go every summer.”

“You did?” I stand back, feeling a little shocked.

“The North Pier at Blackpool is just a short walk from the sandy beaches,” she continues. “We’d have candy floss and donkey rides and my parents would always take us out to see the lights every evening. If there is one thing I still wish for, it’s that I could see them again…” “Oh!” I catch my breath and laugh. Those Northern Lights? Then, before she can say another word, I tell her, “We’ll go and see them, then. You and me. Before you have to leave for your new life…” I phrase it carefully. I know that ever since she decided she wanted to go live in a gated community with people “more of her own age” as she put it, she’s been having second thoughts. But not on her own account. On mine.

The truth is, when Ems came to live with me three years ago it was only because I couldn’t bear to be on my own after losing Harry. She might be slower on her feet these days, but she’s been an emotional crutch for me, no matter how much I tell myself that I do for her.

You’d think she’d just stay with me now, but Ems has never been one to be tied down to anyone and it seems that – even at eighty-five – she needs her independence as much as she ever did.

It’s high time I found my independence, too.

“You’d do that for me?” She’s a proud woman, but underneath all that makeup I can see her eyes are glittering. “I know I haven’t always been the easiest mum-in-law in the world.” “I couldn’t have asked for better.” I’m going to miss her hugely when she goes, I acknowledge now. Maybe Lou was right, and spending all our energy getting cross with each other has just been our way of not feeling our sadness at having to go our own ways?

I pick up her little Yorkie terrier and whisper as I carry him through to kitchen, “Just as well I’ll still have you, eh, isn’t it, Alfie?”

And, of course, the promise of the Northern Lights…