She made those comments at Sunday lunches, in church hallways, in our kitchen, and once while standing on my own front porch.
One afternoon, she watched me working in the flower bed beside the driveway.
My knee was aching, and I shifted my weight as I knelt in the dirt.
Marlene noticed immediately.
She commented on the pain with exaggerated sympathy.
Then she said children required enormous energy.
The sentence sounded innocent enough to anyone who did not know her.
I knew exactly what she meant.
I asked why she was so interested in my knees.
She said she was worried about Evan’s future.
I told her she was worried about grandchildren.
She smiled sadly, as if I had accused her unfairly.
She always wanted what was best for her son.
In Marlene’s version of our family, I was not Evan’s wife or an individual carrying her own grief.
