I get downstairs to meet Mother standing by the counter as she slices some vegetables on a cutting board.

"Yes, Mom. You called me." I say, rubbing my eyes.

She turns with a faint smile and gradually scrutinizes my body from head to toe. "Come here and help me peel and slice the potatoes."

I tie my hair into a bun, wash my hands, and begin working right beside her. The loud click of my knife against the cutting board is almost as loud as anything.

Suddenly, she speaks just when I think ...