A Pat Lock Story

It’s my mom’s birthday today.

When I got home last night, I saw the door to my mom’s room was open. I could see her asleep with my sister beside her (five months after my dad died my mom still can’t sleep alone in their marital bed.)

I asked my brother why her door was open. He said the lock was stuck in the “locked” position; it could only be opened from inside, or by using the key. So I tried to jiggle the lock (sometimes the mechanism just needs jiggling) but it was too noisy. I decided I’ll just try again in the morning.

I woke up this morning I checked the lock. It was working fine now. At the breakfast table, I saw my mom reading the newspaper. “Happy birthday, Mommy!” I kissed her on the cheek. “Who fixed the lock?”

She answered with a smile, “Si Daddy.”

“Huh?” I blurted.

She said this morning she instructed my sister to just lock the door while she attended morning mass; she had the key with her anyway. When she got back from mass, she used the key to open the door. Lo and behold, the lock was now working fine.

“Last night I jiggled it. Maybe that helped unstuck the lock,” I said.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I didn’t fix it. Your daddy knows I have no idea how to fix those things.”

I gave in to her. “Or maybe that is Daddy’s birthday gift to you.”

“Or you could be right too,” she conceded. But I could tell she preferred her explanation better.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.