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Show Woodworth/153 sense of herself. More independence." "Well, we sure hated to see her move," Ned says. He stirs his drink with his finger- In my day, girls lived at home until they got married. Unless they were at college, or some place where they had a chaparone, or an adult watching over them." "Times have changed," Gray responds. "It's hard on parents. Seems like, once we've devoted that much time and energy to them, they should stick around when they are older. Stick around, and give us a little help in our old age." Gray, silhouetted by the setting sun, looks anything but old. "Love," Kathy says. Ruth turns towards her. "What, dear?" Gray asks. "Love. We devote time, and energy, and love. But it seems like what we want. Well, what I want anyway. Is love. I mean sure, I want them to be grateful, about all the sacrifices I made, and all of that. But I think you go into motherhood knowing that a part of it is going to be a one-way street. I mean, how often did you tell your mother thank you?" Kathy asks Ruth. She turns in her chair. "I mean, really, how often did you go up to your mother and say, "Gee, Mom. Thanks a lot for toilet training me?" she asks, animatedly. She curls her lip. "I certainly never did. But I just wish once, when they were old enough to know what adult love means, that one of my daughters would say to me, 'Gee, Mom. I love you.'" They sit in silence for a few seconds, and Ruth hears the symphony of crickets that began sometime during the conversation. "Did you ever tell your mother you loved her?" Ruth asks softly. The details of Kath's face are disappearing in the dusk. She sits, pensive, for a second. "Ojiy unuu." BUB pauses again, heaves in air. "Only once, |