Twenty minutes later, he heard a knock on his door.
"What is it, mom?", he shouted not bothering to get up and open the door.
"I've made pasta, beta... "
He sighed.. "She just wouldn't leave me alone", he thought to himself. "Mom! Keep it on the table. I'll eat when I want to.."
His mother went back to the kitchen. She wiped her eyes with the end of her pallu only to realize that she had no tears in her eyes. Her cheeks were, however, red.
The tears finally appeared when she heard the main door of the house banged shut. She picked up the empty plate from the dining table and placed it in the sink. She remembered her son sleeping with his head on her lap when he had hurt his knees on the playground at the age of eight. She would pat him to sleep and only then go to sleep.
Today, her son was lost in his own world and every question from her was an intrusion into his space, his privacy. He had grown up and maybe she should too, she thought.
Five years later, the phone rang. It was her son.
"Mum.. it's so hectic to be working here. Things were so good at home... There's no one to come back to.... Mom, missing you.... I need my space. My space, my place, on your lap...."
The tears in the mother's eyes appeared sooner this time.