I have always admired my parents’ perfect relationship. They lived soul to soul until their silver wedding, I never even saw them fight when I was a kid. Mom, when Dad sulked, would cook something delicious for him in the kitchen, and then, as usual, call him to lunch or dinner, and amaze him with her culinary skills, and then guiltily extend an apology, and Dad’s heart would immediately thaw. When my mother was offended, it was enough for my father to apologize and give her a big hug and a kiss on the top of her head, and then all their quarrels would be over, they would have no problems at all, and an elusive aroma of love would be in the air.
I haven’t lived with them for a long time now, since I became an adult, I rent a studio apartment, and I am actively working on a banking application. I visit my parents from time to time to see how they are doing, maybe to bring them something they are missing. And my mom spoils me with goodies in return.
So yesterday I went to see them. Even from the doorway, I noticed that my mother is not in the mood. I was afraid to ask right away, having decided to please her with my successes first, and then to approach the subject discreetly. When I saw my father in the room, I realized that he was upset and offended by something.
My mother took me to the kitchen, poured me a whole plate of borscht and reluctantly began to ask about work. I knew right away that it wouldn’t work that way, so I asked her what had happened with Daddy. My mother came down on me, telling me how my father was outraged about the under-salted borscht, then about the under-salted porridge. And my mother said that it was suspicious that he did not have enough salt, for her borscht is normal. They have not talked for a day because of this.
This reason seemed to me ridiculous and even childish. My father, hearing what they were saying about him, came into the kitchen frowning, sighing unhappily while listening. My mother began to urge me to try the borscht, demonstratively before my father. So I tried it. Salt is really a little lacking, and I honestly told my mother. Maybe if I did not say anything, they would have continued to sulk at each other.
Mom, angry, began to shout that it is absolutely normal borscht, and if I do not like it, she poured it the dogs. And my dad, joining in with her, told me not to upset my mother – her blood pressure is high enough as it is.
As they say, don’t stand between quarreling spouses, you’ll find yourself at fault. So that’s how it turned out, they both jumped on me, but they made up with each other. But my dad and I shouldn’t say such things to my mom anymore, it’s better to finish it quietly, that’s all.
