My Mother’s Day Table

 

To see the whole article on The Boston Globe’s Op Ed page, please click here

WHEN THE tablecloth came out of the dryer with a frayed hem, I gasped. It is 25 years old, if it’s a day. But I was irrationally unprepared. The cloth is the last remnant of the long story of my relationship with my mother. She is no longer here to send me another.