Chapter 7 - MY FIRST REAL FAILUREMaya did not start with the party when we finally talked privately.
She started with the key.
“You gave her a permanent key.”
“For emergencies.”
“I asked you to take it back.”
“I thought—”
She looked at me.
I stopped.
That phrase had done enough damage.
I thought.
I thought Mom meant well.
I thought she was lonely.
I thought Maya was more sensitive to criticism than I was.
I thought family should not need appointments.
I thought a spare key was not a big deal.
Six months earlier, Maya found Mom in our bedroom while we were at work.
She said she was looking for a sweater she had left.
No sweater existed.
Maya told me:
“I don’t want her coming in when we aren’t here.”
I said:
“I’ll talk to her.”
I did.
Mom said:
“Maya is acting like I’m a burglar.”
I laughed.
Then told Maya:
“She understands.”
I did not take back the key.
Three months later Mom entered while Maya was napping.
Again.
I still did not change access.
Why?
Because taking my mother’s key felt dramatic.
That sentence is embarrassing now.
I chose avoiding one uncomfortable conversation over my wife’s stated boundary inside her own home.
May you like
The lunch party was Mom’s decision.
The access that made it easy came partly from mine.
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