Osmund James, Contributor
TEN-YEAR-OLD Karen said: "Mommy has been sad these past few days."
And eight year-old Richard commented: "I wonder why?"
Then seven-year-old Susan said: "I hate to see her so sad."
And five year-old Sandra, bobbing her head, declared: "I know why she is sad."
This declaration made the others look at the youngster. They were all sitting under the low mango tree in their backyard. Their home was in a small seaside Jamaican town. The Saturday morning was clear and cool. Little Sandra repeated: "I know why Mommy is sad."
"Why?" asked Karen.
Sandra said: "It's something Daddy did."
"What?" and "did what?" and "Dad did what?" were the simultaneous responses.
"Don't know what," Sandra said with a shrug, "I just know it's something Dad did."
"Oh well," Karen said, disappointed and doubtful about Sandra's information, "What matters is that we must try making her happy before the end of the day."
The others agreed. They all fell silent. Their mother, Mrs. Rodney, was inside the house, a bungalow. Their dad was out somewhere with friends. A donkey brayed down the street. And Richard said: "That must be Mass Smithy donkey. Perhaps we should asked him to come tell Mommy some jokes."
"That'd help and...I know what we must do!" said Karen.
The others looked at her. She told them her idea. They loved it, put their heads together to make it better.
Mrs. Rodney served lunch at the small table on the back veranda. There was baked dumplings with ackee and saltfish, bread and fried fresh fish. The drinks was cold lemonade. The children ate very quickly, a lot quicker than usual.
The plan
Ordinarily, Mrs. Rodney would've noticed the children's haste and scold them against gulping their food. But she was now so sad and depressed she just sat there trying to force herself to eat. Of course, the children's hasty eating was due to a plan.
"Mommy," Susan piped, "we planned a lunch time concert for you."
Mrs. Rodney put down her fork and tried to smile. She said, "Thanks, but there's so much work to do, and I'm tired already."
"It's a short concert," Karen insisted, hugging Mommy, "and we'll do the dishes."
Mommy sighed, her dark-brown face still doleful. Richard and Susan ran inside the house. Shortly, there was music flowing from the living-dining room, and Susan returned with a bottle of skin lotion. Then two of the kids began dancing, while the other two sat down at Mommy's feet and took off her slippers to massage her feet with the skin lotion. Mommy began looking less sad. The children treated her to a short feast of dancing, singing, poems and jokes; and always there was one or two of them massaging her feet or shoulders. Mommy brightened and began eating heartily, having a great lunch. They were all laughing at a joke when Mr. Rodney stepped onto the back veranda and said: "What's this?"
"A concert," Karen said. "We didn't like to see how sad Mommy was."
Mr. Rodney looked at his wife and said: "I love to see you all happy. Sorry I hurt you, my love. I love you all."
"I'm a lucky woman," Mommy said, beaming at her husband. "I love you all, too."
Karen led her brother and sisters in singing the 23rd Psalm, the finale to a great lunch.
