The Fifth Commandment
They composed a tranquil, if not particularly
cheerful, trio. Preferring solitude, they seldom entertained guests.
Despite their reserved nature, they unfailingly
extended a warm welcome to me whenever I visited. And so, I found it surprising
when I detected a hint of unease in the sisters as I brought them a visit
rather late one evening. Upon my arrival, I sensed that my visit should be
brief.
It was because of their mother. She had become
senile. She usually sat in a grand armchair, a blanket on her lap, her gaze
fixed straight ahead, paying no attention to the conversation nor acknowledging
any guests. I was accustomed to this, but what follows I had yet to learn.
It so happened that evening that I had to convey
to them a rather sensitive message I had received by telephone. Arriving
shortly before ten o'clock, I was brought into the living room. As I sat down, Mother
Bender leaned forward to inspect the mantle clock. A moment later she checked
it again.
Then, as the clock struck ten, the elderly woman
abruptly straightened in her chair, tapped her finger on the table, and said,
"Girls, bedtime!"
Her tone, so firm and resolute, startled me. The
sisters, aged 54 and 52, exchanged sheepish glances.
The finger tapped the table once more, with
greater force.
"Girls, can't you hear me? Hurry along,
please!"
The elder sister dared protest, "Oh, mother.
. . .”
However, this proved a misstep. Old mother raised
her voice and struck the table with some force: “No nonsense, you; obey my
instruction."
Feeling awkward, I made a move to stand up to
depart, but one of the sisters gestured for me to stay yet for a few moments.
They both exited the room, leaving the old woman seated, her gaze fixed upon
the door.
The minutes passed in silence, except for the
ticking of the clock.
Soon enough, the sisters returned and approached
their mother.
"Let me see," she demanded sternly. They
obediently extended their hands for inspection.
"Teeth brushed?"
"Yes, Mother."
With this, the aged woman sank back into her
chair, her task, seemingly, concluded. Resting her gray head against the back
of the chair, the light in her eyes faded and her blue-veined hands sought the
armrests.
In the hallway, as I was leaving, the sisters acknowledged
that this nightly episode repeated without fail. They admitted, with a tinge of
shame, to occasionally adjusting the clock to postpone the inspection by an
hour.
"Yet," murmured the elder, "Mother
was always so kind to us in our youth."
"Yes," concurred the younger, "and
she is still our mother."
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“Het vijfde gebod,” Peper en Zout, pp. 68-70, by Ds. M.
E. Voila; tr. George van Popta, 2024
