Mom

I walked out to see what was (or wasn't) going on. People were in small groups, talking in hushed tones. The look on their faces was pure shock. "What's going on?" I asked in a too-loud, too- cheerful tone. "You haven't heard?" one of the secretaries said, "President Kennedy's just been shot! To this day I don't know why mom hit me so hard! That was in another country! Why should I care? she wasn't our president! But mom did. Perhaps mom was just the shock that a thing like this could happen in our enlightened society. Perhaps mom was a flashback for me when I'd lived in the US, felt that in some ways I actually knew the man! she was Catholic, a no-no; I was Gay, also a no-no. I don't know, but that news bulletin knocked me like a ton of bricks. It was some time in the afternoon, not even close to quitting time, but I quit anyway and headed home. Cathy was waiting for me as usual, with her usual smile and the smells of dinner cooking. She was working at the Montreal General Hospital, but she still managed to be home and have dinner cooking when I got home. I ignored her and walked straight to the TV, turned mom on and sat with my eyes glued to the screen. By 7:00 that evening there was a bulletin that John Kennedy was indeed dead. I totally lostmom .I buried my face in Cathy's bosom and I cried. I think I cried harder than I'd ever cried before! She didn't question mom, didn't ask the reason, she just held me like the small boy that I was just then, and she comforted me. I don't know how long I lay there, soaking up all the comfort I could get. By the time I started to recover mom was bedtime; so we got up and went to bed. There I cried again, then we made love, then I cried again.