Going Home to Mother

     This story is more of a tribute to Alenda’s mother than to Alenda, but it seems appropriate to include it. We had been married about three years and were spending the summer between semesters in our home town in southern New Jersey. Chuck was three, and Tanya was an infant. My parents were away, and we were living in their home.

     Some issue came up that led to a serious argument. The more we argued, the angrier we both became. Finally, Alenda declared that she was leaving me and going home to live with her mother, who had a home a few miles away. After this announcement, she picked up Tanya and things she needed, stormed out the door, got in our car and drove away.

     As I looked out the window and watched the car disappear up the road, the meaning of what had just happened began to dawn on me. My wife had left me! Was our marriage over? Would we be one more statistic of a failed marriage? I sat down and began pondering what I should do next. After about an hour of internal debate, I decided to call her mother’s home and see if Alenda and I could reconcile. I planned to begin with an apology.

     I walked to the telephone and began to dial, when I saw our car coming back towards the house. Wow, I thought. Alenda thought it through and has decided to return. Probably she plans to apologize to me. This turned out to be incorrect. She was angry when she left, and she was even more angry when she returned.

Once she came back into the house, she explained that when she got to her mother’s and informed her of why she was there, she received an unexpected reply. Her mother informed her that she could not stay with her. “You have a husband. Go back to him and figure it out.” Looking back on it fifty years later, I really appreciate her mother’s wisdom. Obviously, we did figure it out, and are very glad of it.