He holds Della tighter for just a few moments. She hasn't messed up - she's the mom he'd never had, and he's grateful - and he's about to say as much when the situation slowly turns itself around in his mind. He's heard Della's viewpoint, but...he can't stop thinking about her sons.
What would he think if his mother suddenly came back?
Maybe...maybe that's the perspective Della doesn't have.
He sits back a bit, still holding her hand, and takes a breath. Hopefully this will help. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but...I never knew my mother. She died when I was born, and all I know about her is the stories my uncle's told me." The less said about his father in all of this, the better - he's trying to comfort Della, not make her angry. "She's not coming back, but if she did somehow, I...I think I'd just be happy to have her - to hold her, and talk to her, and get to know her." For a moment, he falls silent, exhausted brain caught up in the fantasy. What would meeting his mother be like? What would he even say to her, if he got a chance?
But there's no train in his world, no lifeline, no way for people to come back from the dead, and this isn't about him. "I don't know your boys," he says, as though that second or two of silence simply hadn't happened, "but I don't think they'd be worried about whether you're a perfect mom. I think they'd just be happy to have you back."
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What would he think if his mother suddenly came back?
Maybe...maybe that's the perspective Della doesn't have.
He sits back a bit, still holding her hand, and takes a breath. Hopefully this will help. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but...I never knew my mother. She died when I was born, and all I know about her is the stories my uncle's told me." The less said about his father in all of this, the better - he's trying to comfort Della, not make her angry. "She's not coming back, but if she did somehow, I...I think I'd just be happy to have her - to hold her, and talk to her, and get to know her." For a moment, he falls silent, exhausted brain caught up in the fantasy. What would meeting his mother be like? What would he even say to her, if he got a chance?
But there's no train in his world, no lifeline, no way for people to come back from the dead, and this isn't about him. "I don't know your boys," he says, as though that second or two of silence simply hadn't happened, "but I don't think they'd be worried about whether you're a perfect mom. I think they'd just be happy to have you back."