Apr 2020
I remember eating peas one at a time, because that's how I ate them at the
last supper mother and I were together before she had to leave Andover
to return to Topeka, Kansas. My lovely mother. I think she came to An-
dover for three days to see me. It was during the Fall. I had to be in the run-
ning for the loneliest student at Andover. I remember her walking in her
high heels crossing one of the roads leading to the Andover vs. Exeter
football game that Saturday afternoon. I cared nothing about the game.
I was so lonely, so miserable at Andover that I was to ashamed to tell my
mother how I truly felt. I simply held my sorrow deep inside of me while I
gazed at her incessantly, trying to soak up every nanosecond of her being
in my presence. It was bitterly ironic that my mother being with me, within
my sight for every possible moment, rendered every ritual of the "Andover-Exeter Weekend" meaningless to me. I was oblivious to everything except my mother. So, in early Sunday afternoon, mother and I had our last supper at some upscale restaurant down the highway that ran along to boundary of Andover's campus. And all I remember about that meal was that whatever I ate I remember only eating peas, eating only one pea at a time, hoping I would never, never run out of them, which, of course, I did. Mother drove me back to my dorm, gave me a kiss on the cheek, let me out, and drove away until I could no longer see the car she had been driving. After quite a long pause, I entered the dorm, walked up the iron stairs, opened the door and then closed it after entering, lay on my bed, and cried as quietly as I could for a long, long time.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
last supper mother and I were together before she had to leave Andover
to return to Topeka, Kansas. My lovely mother. I think she came to An-
dover for three days to see me. It was during the Fall. I had to be in the run-
ning for the loneliest student at Andover. I remember her walking in her
high heels crossing one of the roads leading to the Andover vs. Exeter
football game that Saturday afternoon. I cared nothing about the game.
I was so lonely, so miserable at Andover that I was to ashamed to tell my
mother how I truly felt. I simply held my sorrow deep inside of me while I
gazed at her incessantly, trying to soak up every nanosecond of her being
in my presence. It was bitterly ironic that my mother being with me, within
my sight for every possible moment, rendered every ritual of the "Andover-Exeter Weekend" meaningless to me. I was oblivious to everything except my mother. So, in early Sunday afternoon, mother and I had our last supper at some upscale restaurant down the highway that ran along to boundary of Andover's campus. And all I remember about that meal was that whatever I ate I remember only eating peas, eating only one pea at a time, hoping I would never, never run out of them, which, of course, I did. Mother drove me back to my dorm, gave me a kiss on the cheek, let me out, and drove away until I could no longer see the car she had been driving. After quite a long pause, I entered the dorm, walked up the iron stairs, opened the door and then closed it after entering, lay on my bed, and cried as quietly as I could for a long, long time.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet and human-rights advocate his entire adult life. He recently finished his novel, A CHILD FOR AMARANTH.
