Ellen Freeman Roth is a writer whose work has been published
internationally. In her intimate essays mined from her daily life, she finds poignance, insights, and humor in how we manage the subtext of contemporary life.
She writes articles about lifestyles and trends, and
people and ideas.
Terms of endearment
“Love you” was my daughter’s sign-off, a confection she bestowed on
me before hanging up or waving goodbye. So sweet, I thought, that
between logarithms and diving practice, my 17-year-old had brimming
affection just for dear old mom. But then something caught my ear.
“Bye, Victoria. Love you,” I heard Maddie say one day. She’s that
close with Victoria? Soon I heard it again. “See you, Dara. Love
you.” And again. “Later, Claire. Love you.” Apparently Maddie wasn’t
sharing some precious comfit with her cherished mother but pouring
liberally from a jumbo bag. Did such endearments so freely dispensed
mean anything? Surely at her age I had reserved “love you” for
people who would remain fixtures throughout my life. Yet “love you”
seemed to be Maddie’s rubber stamp for everyone but the postman.