Tragedy of Tragedies

The fish'n'chip shop is moving. The matriarch is devastated; the world as she knows it has succumbed and we, all of us, are burdened with change, difference, adaptation.

The matriarch practically yelled the news at me at supper this evening. She shook her head, she raised her arms, she did not know what she was going to do.

My husband clarified the situation by indicating the shop was only moving up the road aways.

But, you never know who the new people will be...said in a hushed whisper. I could not believe how emotional the matriarch was over this sequence of events.

The place is not for sale. Its lease is up. They are moving.

What's that you say? The matriarch cannot hear my husband when she is upset. Truly, she cannot hear anybody. The world is silenced by events affecting her, alone.

The restaurant is moving. It is not for sale. My husband has spoken louder. For, generally a quiet kind of guy, he sounds a bit angry and the children are watching him. I am quiet because this has nothing to do with me. Nothing. And, the matriarch knows it. I don't go to the fish'n'chip place. She knows this without a doubt and I am free and clear from blame. Yes, I know there is no blame, no accusation, but it is a good feeling knowing I am uninvolved. Isn't that terrible? My husband is the scapegoat in this situation and I feel relief?

How do you know there aren't going to be new people?

Of course, there will be new people; the place will be in a new building. That's why they told you where they were moving....You're a regular; they won't forget about you. There is a frustration in my husband's voice as he tries to explain the change in the fish'n'chip restaurant to his mother. I think he is trying to keep his voice loud but not intimidating; he keeps looking at the girls as he speaks. I don't think they care but are worried about the tenor of his voice. Who knows but they don't excuse themselves from the table.

I don't want to go to a new place to eat fish'n'chips.

It's not a new place. It's the old place in a new location. My husband is trying very hard to be patient. When the children were little, he had endless patience with them and I am watching him struggle to have the same attitude with his mother and fail miserably. It is not that the matriarch doesn't understand what is going on--she knows the restaurant is only changing locations, but she doesn't like the idea of change, the role of newness or difference in any way. She shudders.

I don't want to go back there. Is there anywhere else to eat?

My husband thinks fast--faster than I would have.

There's a new place near the old fish'n'chip place. I hear it is pretty good.

You sure? It's a pity they're moving. They had nice waitresses. They always got my hot chocolate with my lunch.

I imagine the new place will be just as good. My husband is relieved, the children are impressed, and I think he has saved the day. The matriarch is satisfied. When she goes to bed, my husband says to me,

I think I am going to take her to a new restaurant; I am sick of fish'n'chips. May as well as make the most of the opportunity.

Change is so difficult for the old; routine is safe. But, goodness, is it boring.