I love my mother. Yes, I said it.
...
I, Shane, saw the pictures of my mother, Erin, when she was young, before I was born. She was much prettier than my female classmates. With her full lips, small straight nose, green eyes, and red, long, somewhat curly hair, she was amazing. And it wasn't only her face: At 5'5", she weighed 128 pounds with a fantastic figure.
...
When she was a senior in high school, Erin met a handsome guy who she fell in love with. At eighteen and six months, she found out she was pregnant. Erin happily announced her positive pregnancy test to her boyfriend, sure about his devotion and expecting to get married. However, the guy had other ideas about his future, and when she refused to perform an abortion, he disappeared to never be seen or heard from again.
Mom was devastated: The love of her life deserted her with his child in her womb... She talked to her parents about her pregnancy. They attempted to persuade her to abort the child and not shame them before their friends. Her bad situation was almost unbearable, but she resisted.
Erin moved to Chicago, found a job as a waitress, and, with the money, rented a small place in a not-so-nice neighborhood. She worked in that restaurant until the day she delivered me. The owner was a good man: After she promised to return to work 3 months later, he gave her 3 months' salary despite being at home with me. She breastfed me those 3 months and later found a retired lady who became my babysitter when Mom was working.
Erin was able to save small amount of money, and with some of it, she paid to become a nurse. When I started school, she began her new job as a nurse in the internal medicine department.
In elementary school, I cared more about sports and playing with friends than helping with house chores or thinking about my mother's hard life. Only in high school I started paying more attention to our family and home. Fortunately, she was never severely sick, and didn't ask for help. As a growing up child, I began asking questions. I wondered how come my father never wrote or called, and why we hadn't visited Mom's parents. She was always patient with me, though she avoided answering these questions, saying I was too young and one day she'd tell me everything.
In spite of working hard in the hospital, Mom found time to help me with homework, drive me to after school activities, and calm me down when I got upset. In the beginning, I took it all as a given, and only when I became a senior in high school, I fully appreciated her limitless love and dedication for me.
One day, we sat to eat dinner, and I asked her how she spent her time when I was away with friends. She blushed and said that until 2 years ago, most of the time she used to watch TV, but later she became bored. During her high school years, she liked to read books and was good at writing essays, so she took an online course in grammar to refresh her memory and then started writing short stories.
I wondered, "But I've never seen you write anything."
Mom chuckled, "Because when you were here, I wanted to be with you. I did it only when you were out. You can read my stories if you wish. They were published on a platform called Medium. I used a pseudonym, not my real name."
She showed me how to access the site and find her writings. Under her assumed name, I found 23 short stories. She wrote about interesting patients she encountered in the hospital, dreams of better life in the modern age, struggles of a single woman, and love stories with a touch of eroticism. I liked her writing style and told her so. She grinned, "Honey, your approval is more important to me than any critic."
...
On my 18th birthday, I invited 6 good friends to our home to celebrate the event. It was a guys-only party. We did it in the basement, so our noise wouldn't reach Mom's room. Now and then, she entered and brought food and drinks. After an hour of playing mostly video games, Mom came down and said with a smile, "Guys, you behave nicely. I'll tell you a secret: In the box near the fridge, I placed 7 cold beers. In Chicago it is illegal to drink alcohol before the person is 21, so I am not going to serve them. But if you choose to steal them, there is nothing I can do about it. Are we cool?"
We giggled, and Burt blurted, "It was too noisy, and we didn't hear anything you just said. And thanks for the cake, snacks, and soda."
Mom chuckled, "You're welcome."
As she left us, Burt turned to me, "Your mother is not only nice and cool. She is a hottie; a real MILF."
I smiled, "Hey, jerk, you are talking about my mother!"
He mumbled, "I am not trying to offend her. I am just saying she is gorgeous. Guys, what do you think?"
Johnny and Lance agreed, Bob and Tommy played a game and ignored us, and David and Mark stayed mum. Burt asked David what he thought about my mother. He gazed at me and winked, saying she definitely deserved a second look. Burt turned to Mark, "And what about you?" Mark's face was flushed and he mumbled, "I was always more attracted to mature women. Shane's Mom is a 10."
Burt glanced at me with a victory smile, "I told you. After so many years alone, I am surprised she doesn't have a mate."
I said, "Guys, enough about my mother. Let's grab the beers and continue to enjoy the good food."
With the drinks in our hands, we continued our games, gossiping, and watching sports on TV until 11 pm, when everybody left.
I went to sleep, but the talk about my mother being a MILF kept me awake. Until that day, I used to see her as Mom - A person I loved and accepted as a mother, not paying much attention to her facial features or her figure. I knew she wasn't ugly or unattractive, but I never stopped to think of her physical attributes.
Now, that Burt forced me to think about the subject, I decided to take more notice and 'observe' her, rather than just pass by her or talk to her.
The following evening, I was determined to look at her face and inspect each part. During the dinner, Mom and I talked, but my eyes were focused on her beautiful hair, green eyes, high cheekbones, and even her freckles. She noticed I was ogling her face and smiled, "Honey, I don't think you listen. Your eyes inspect my face. What is it? Do I have a stain or something?"
I stuttered, "No. I juust realized how pretty yoour face is."
She joked, "What you are saying is that after 19 years you actually look at my face?"
"You are my mother and I never bothered thinking about it."
"See the difference between us: On a daily basis I watched you grow and become a handsome young man. Since puberty, there was no day I didn't gaze at you and was amazed at how you gradually became tall and attractive young man."
I said, "Mom, you never gave me so many compliments. Just tell me what you want me to do for you, and I'll do it."
"Honey, I am serious."
The pretty face was one thing, but the body was more difficult to appreciate: At home, most of the time Mom used shapeless robes that hid her figure. I had to think about how to change it in the future.
"Mom, in the past I asked you about Dad. You mentioned one day you'd tell me. I think time has come."
I saw tears in her eyes, "I wrote about it in one of my stories. You can read it, but the short version is that your father made me pregnant but was not ready to get hitched. I did not want to abort you, and he left us. I never heard from him again. He may live in Australia, be married with 3 children and raise cows... I never sent a private investigator to check on him."
"So why haven't you dated another guy after he was gone?"
"I was shocked after he disappeared without a trace. It's not only that he left ME, but he didn't care about YOU! I just could not tolerate the idea that a man I used to love would be such a low-life, so I vowed never to go out with strangers again. The emotional burden was simply too much. You are my life, and that's enough for me."
