A Different Mother     

Quietly, I would hang up my coat and briefcase, then go to the kitchen and wash my hands with soap.

Quietly, I would sit down at the table and my mother would serve me a steaming bowl of cabbage soup. Quietly, I would eat.

We did everything quietly. I mean, of course we spoke. My mother would ask me how my day was, what was for homework, what else was doing. Often she’d also share something she’d done that day, a store she’d shopped at, a friend she’d met. We even usually had some music playing in the background. Soft music. Calm music. Quiet music.

It was always quiet in our house, simply because there was nobody around to make any noise.