Is she just saying?

 Today has been a back-to-normal sort of day—and after Sunday’s experiences, that’s exactly what I needed.

I needed Eric to give my plaited ponytail a cheeky tug on his way to the breakfast table and say, “Good morning fatty, did you have a good holiday?” I needed to hear Dad in his study, talking with Uncle Ken about cutting grass, only to start grumbling that there was no end to the rain in sight. That made me smile, remembering how, just a day or two before we went away, they’d been saying there was no end to the drought in sight. It’s one of the things I’m learning about farmers and farming—well, two things, actually. First, how much everything depends on the weather, and second, that whatever the weather is, it’s always the wrong sort!

I needed Mum to remind Eric that there were ladies present, while at the same time giving me that look of mock-surprise when he announced yet again that it seemed he had the biggest sausage this morning. Moments like that make me feel grounded. It was good to be back in the familiar, where I knew where I was.

At least, however offensive the weather can be, it isn’t personal. It doesn’t cut people out, ignore their thoughts, or dismiss their lives in favour of its own way. That was what I’d faced the other day, and it left me with a bitterness that hadn’t gone away, even when Mum told me to leave it.

This afternoon, while cleaning out the van with Mum, I felt her mood softening towards me. Still, I was conscious of not wanting to stir up the dragon again. But the thing is, being silenced didn’t end it for me. The taste lingered, and I couldn’t quite swallow it down. Somehow, at some point, it had to be spat out. And I felt that now, with things quiet between us, was that time.

“Mum, about the other day,” I began. “I’m sorry if you feel I spoke out of turn. I never meant to upset you or Dad. It’s just that I hated the way he treated Stephen—it reminded me too much of how Grandfather and my birth mother treated me, with no one ever speaking up for me. I couldn’t just sit by and watch.”

“Katie, dear, I’m not completely insensitive to what your motives were,” she said. “But you were letting yourself down. Jack has never had anything, or been anybody, and he never will be. That’s why he has to put everyone else down while building himself up. By rising to his comments, you give him exactly what he wants—you lower yourself to his level. You liken Stephen’s situation to your own past, but remember how you resolved it. No amount of talking or shouting, whether from you or anyone else, was ever going to change your mother or grandfather. You found your way out from under it all by your own means. Stephen will have to do the same. You shouting at his father won’t encourage that, however well-intentioned.”

It’s always good to talk with Mum—she has a way of making things clearer. And I can see she’s right. Fighting his fire with my own only made me no better than him. Still, one thing she said has left me puzzled. At the end she told me, “Stephen needs to realise the same.” Was she saying I should help show him the way? Or was she just saying it’s for him alone to figure out?