Welcome to the Family

For the next nine hours, the 'Sanders' household was peaceful. The guns were quiet, mens' voices were barely a whisper, and only the sound of a soldier's labored breath could be heard. But at precisely ten a.m. the once barren battle-zone was active again.
There was breakfast on the table. A microwaved Eggo Blueberry Waffle dribbled with syrup and a tall glass of milk for Matthew, and the morning paper with tea and jelly-spread toast for Valary, his mother.

"So...Could you please tell me you weren't serious about yesterday?"
Matthew would attempt to add humor as he pleaded with his mother with an exaggerated pout. He wasn't about to give up, any opportunity to stay here would be a small victory.

"I wish I could."
Valary gingerly took a sip from her tea cup, while re-situating the newspaper on her lap. She hadn't particularly been one to read the 'Daily Tribune' or the same-old, same-old banter that happened in nearby counties; after all that was her husband's department. He would often have a cup of coffee and situate himself on the front porch, and when he found that his 'need to read' was satisfied, he would relay the community activities and happenings to her. However, recently, her husband was not around to 'relay' what was currently happening in the community to her- so she would have to educate herself.

With his mouth full, her son would adamantly respond with a proposal of his own.
"Why can't we just let it go? I promise, I wont miss curfew. Next time, I'll come home early. I'll do better in the fall on my report card. I can make some new friends, it's not that hard!"

"If it 'wasn't so hard' for you to keep out of trouble, then what on earth would posses you to get into it."
Valary would wring her hands uncomfortably.
"And, your 'relationship' with your father, has been on my mind for quite some time now. I can't stress enough how important it is that you spend some time with one another once in a while."

"That man may have contributed to my conception, but he is not my 'father'"
Matthew retorted in sheer and utter dis-contempt, and earned himself a swift smack on his temple with a disheveled newspaper.

Valary would frown. Her husband could be stubborn, and it was more recently apparent- that her son could be too.
"I swear, if you weren't my son..."

If he weren't her son, she wouldn't have nearly as many abdominal stretch lines as she did.
If he weren't her son her forehead wouldn't have nearly as many wrinkles.
And, if he weren't her son, she wouldn't have nearly as many grey hairs on the top of her head.
Her appearances, as many would often predict, rang true to the omen of motherhood.

But, even if Junior's birth left her belly with numerous stretch lines, even if Junior's attitude and unpleasant demeanor left her forehead with wrinkles, even if Junior's behavior left her with grey hair- in the end, he was her son; and Valary wouldn't have it any other way.