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c? I was playing baseball at Andy Wilbur's house one day when his older sister asked me if I knew that my mother looked like Natalie Wood. "I guess so," I said, "maybe." I didn't knowwho Natalie Wood was or what she looked like, but I didn't want to admit that to Andy's sister. Not long afterwards, I saw the actress in an old movie, and I noticed the resemblance, but my mother's facewas rounder, her nose sharper and a bit too long for Hollywood. It was the eyes, mostly—those dark eyes impossible to ignore, with pupils that always seemed wide and inviting, even when she was tired or angry or sad. Once, when I was twelve, my parents and I went to the Atlanta airport to pick up Uncle Lewis. My mother had gone into the restroom, and my father and I were sitting at the gate, waiting and watching hundreds of people rush past. We sat there not talking for awhile, and then my father wavedhis hand toward the moving crowds. "People from all over the world," he said. "Tell me if you see a woman better looking than your mother." I did look at the other women, but I didn't want to be comparing them with my mother, since the shapes and faces of women had begun to fill me with wild thoughts that I could *4 1 was playing baseball at Andy Wilbur's house one day when his older sister asked me if1 knew that my mother looked like Natalie Wood. "I guess so," 1said, "maybe." 1didn't know who Natalie Wood was or what she looked like, but 1 didn't want to admit that to Andy's sister. Not long afterwards, 1 saw the actress in an old movie, and 1noticed the resemblance, but my mother's face was rounder, her nose sharper and a bit too long for Hollywood. It was the eyes, mostly-those dark eyes impossible to ignore, with pupils that always seemed wide and inviting, even when she was tired or angry or sad. Once, when 1 was twelve, my parents and 1 went to the Atlanta airport to pick up Uncle Lewis. My mother had gone into the restroom, and my father and 1were sitting at the gate, waiting and watching hundreds of people rush past. We sat there not talking for a while, and then my father waved his hand toward the moving crowds. "People from allover the world," he said. "Tell me ifyou see a woman better looking than your mother." 1did look at the other women, but 1didn't want to be comparing them with my mother, since the shapes and faces of women had begun to fill me with wild thoughts that 1 could I4 barely control. My mother came out of the restroom, but I didn't really look at her. I realize now that when I did look at her, I didn't see her; I had never really seen her. Even when I looked at her and concentrated , I didn't see her. And even when she spoke simply and clearly and only to me, and I listened to her, I didn't really hear her, either. All my life, I realize now, she had been a kind of absence, until the summer we left home and stayed at the Sabbath Creek Motor Court and everything happened, and then—in the middle of a thunderstorm, late one night when it was almost all over—there she was. IS barely control. My mother came out of the restroom, but I didn't really look at her. I realize now that when I did look at her, I didn't see her; I had never really seen her. Even when I looked at her and concentrated , I didn't see her. And even when she spoke simply and clearly and only to me, and I listened to her, I didn't really hear her, either. All my life, I realize now, she had been a kind of absence, until the summer we left home and stayed at the Sabbath Creek Motor Court and everything happened, and then- in the middle of a thunderstorm, late one night when it was almost all over-there she was. IS ...
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