Diary 12May
Dear diary,
This evening I received a message that set my nerves on edge. Good evening, MrsPeterson. This is Gwen, your future daughterinlaw. I would like to meet and talk. Please let me know a convenient time and place.
Eleanor Peterson, my motherinlaw, stiffened at the very thought of a future daughterinlaw. She had never heard from Andrew that he intended to marry.
Hello, Gwen, Eleanor wrote back shortly after, today at six oclock at my house, Ill be waiting.
I wondered what she could possibly be hoping to discuss. A baby? A marriage proposal? She seemed convinced that Gwens sole purpose was to push Andrew into matrimony. She ranted in her mind about his prospects: Hes an architect with a bright futurehis own flat, a decent car, good looks, sharp mind. Any woman would be lucky to have him, yet hes chosen this plain, slight girl.
Eleanor went about tidying the flat and popping to the corner shop, her heart uneasy. She had seen Gwen a few times already and never liked her from the first meeting. Andrew used to bring Gwen over just for tea, to chat. After each visit, Eleanor would vent everything that crossed her mind about the girl.
Son, shed say, why not someone else? Whats so wonderful about her? Shes small, thin, unremarkable. Men these days prefer a different sort of woman. She isnt a match for you!
Andrew, ever calm, would reply, Mum, I love her. Shes the most beautiful to me and cooks a brilliant stew!
Her words cut deeper than any insult; she had always praised my cooking, and now this newcomer was outshining my own dishes.
Gwen arrived precisely at six, bearing a tray of freshly baked scones topped with clotted creammy favourite treat. Eleanors eyes narrowed. What a ploy, trying to win me over with sweets, she thought.
MrsPeterson, Gwen began, Im not here to hover. Andrew has proposed, and I have accepted. Hes waiting for the right moment to tell you. He worries youll take the news badly.
Eleanor, polite but sharp, answered, Of course, dear. Why should I not be glad?
Gwen continued, Id like to make an agreement. Please hear me out.
She explained that both she and Andrew had grown up without both parents: Andrews father had left when he was a boy, and Gwens father died when she was young. She spoke of the love and dedication Eleanor had poured into her son, praising him as a courteous, kind, and attentive young manher gratitude was evident.
Eleanor nodded, acknowledging that her sons character was indeed a product of her upbringing.
Gwen pressed on, You had hoped Andrew would wed a beautiful, successful, wealthy woman. I am small, modest, from a simple background, and my salary is modest. In your eyes, Im a poor match. You must be feeling uncertain about how to turn him down, yes?
Eleanor shrugged, Exactly.
Gwen outlined a grim scenario: Andrew will ignore your advice. Youll try to convince him, youll argue, youll end up not attending the wedding. Hell think youre against him, and youll be labelled a meddling mother.
She then turned the tables, Meanwhile, well be happy together. Ill have a child, and Andrew will tell you, but youll refuse to see your grandchild, denying our marriage and our child. My mother will dote on the grandchild, tell stories, spoil them, becoming the beloved grandmother. Youll sit alone, watching television, feeling deserted, especially on holidays when families gather. Health will fade, visitors scarceonly a neighbour or a friend will drop by. Youll live out your days alone, never hearing your grandchilds laughter, never being called Grandma, no birthday wishes. That would be your choice.
She softened, Or perhaps things could be different. After I leave, youll reflect, and as a loving mother youll accept your sons choice, because if he loves me, there must be a reason.
She added, Im not a bad person. At work Im respected, Im kind, Ill be a good wife and mother. Most of all, I love your son, and he loves me.
She asked Eleanor, When Andrew tells you he intends to marry, will you praise him and accept his decision? I know you may never warm to me, but a simple courteous response would be enough.
Gwen confessed she held no ill will toward Eleanor, yet was willing to change her attitude. She promised a place of honour at the wedding, that Eleanor would be able to adore her son and share a moment with her. When the child arrives, Eleanor would always be a welcome guest, and the child would have two loving grandmothers.
She concluded, I will never speak ill of you, nor will you of me. Our common goal is Andrews happiness. Lets cooperate. Think it over and call me so I know what to expect. Thank you for the tea, MrsPeterson. All the best.
When Gwen departed, Eleanor sank into the armchair by the window, pondering. She felt justified, convinced that she was right. She recalled how Andrews eyes lit up when he looked at Gwen, how even her own stew seemed dull to him now.
She wondered what she would gain. Nothing, she concludedonly lingering resentment while another grandmother cared for the grandchild.
Later that night, my phone rang. Eleanor, Im agreeing to your terms, I heard my motherinlaws voice. I dont want to sit alone, Ill befriend my son and, by extension, you. Will you look after the grandchild on weekends? And whats the secret ingredient you add to the stew that Andrew loves so much?
I laughed, MrsPeterson, your stew is still the best, but Ill tell you the secretjust a pinch of rosemary.
Three years have passed since that uneasy truce. Today I watched my son, Andrew, playing with little Harry, his brighteyed son, and I felt a swell of pride. Andrew, I said, look at Harry, hes your spittingimage! I turned to Gwen, Thank you for that agreement; you were right.
She smiled, What agreement?
I replied, Just our little secret, dear.
Eleanor, now seated beside them, exchanged a conspiratorial wink with Gwen, and the room filled with soft laughter.
Looking back, I see how stubborn pride can fence us off from joy, and how a simple willingness to listen can bridge generations. My lesson: love does not flourish through control, but through humility and openness.
End of entry.
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