It’s only been a handful of days since she’s been released from the hospital, and already she’s got cabin fever. It was a struggle to convince her to stay home and rest, but thankfully, her doctor said a few days’ break from work was mandatory. She listened but has spent every day off busying herself with food prep. Each morning I wake up to chopped veggies, marinated wings, and lumpia, ready to load from the commercial kitchen into the truck. It’s like she’s working remotely in a weird way.

Instead of reminding her to ease up, I thank her each morning. If keeping busy is what makes her happy, then I need to let her do that.

I walk to the kitchen for water and fight off my instinct to pepper her with questions, like if she ate enough during the day and what her blood sugar readings were. Mom and Callum were right. If I want her to be open with me, I need to give her the space she deserves.

I manage a reasonable, “How are you feeling?”

She opens the freezer and peers inside. “Good. I just went down to the commercial kitchen and whipped up some extra orders of lumpia and wings in case you need them.”

She pulls out her blood sugar testing kit. She plops onto the nearby barstool, then pats the seat of the one next to her. When I sit, she goes through her evening routine of pricking her finger, dabbing it on a paper strip, then inserting it into the meter to get a reading of her glucose level. Ever since we had it out in the hospital room about her keeping her diabetes a secret, she’s made it a point to do her readings in the morning and evening in front of me.

The meter beeps and she turns it to me. “See? One hundred and seven. I had a snack a little while ago, so that’s pretty good.”

I pat her arm and smile at her. “That’s good, Mom. But you don’t always have to do it in front of me. I trust you.”

She glances up at me. “I know you do, but I want to show you that I’m not hiding anything. I’m taking care of myself. I feel good, I feel healthy, but I promise I will tell you if I’m feeling bad again.”

I slip my arm around her and pull her into a side hug. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Her openness brings a much-needed level of comfort to our relationship. It means she’s working hard to repair the rift caused by her keeping her health status a secret. Each day I rein in my control freak tendencies when it comes to her health. There’s no need for me to micromanage now that we’re approaching each other with this new level of honesty.