It had started with a small cracked vase, filled with a few fern fronds and algae strands. The blue crackle of faded paint upon the porcelain stood starkly on the shelf next to the picture of Tang Shen that Splinter kept on display. The portrait was typically unadorned, so the sudden appearance of a vase had immediately captured the rat's attention when he entered the dojo for morning meditation.
The turtles were not quite old enough to venture to the surface unsupervised, so it appeared that one of them resourcefully arranged what plant life could be found within the dark sewers into a bouquet. Splinter grazed one of the fern fronds with the back of his finger, a wistful smile curving his lips. He could recall the outing in which Leonardo had discovered the chipped and worn vase, carefully stowing it away in one of the bags they used for scavenging.
After morning practice with his sons came breakfast, wrapping up an otherwise uneventful start to the day. When Splinter returned to the dojo to prepare for the next exercises, however, he was surprised to find yet another item had been added to the shelf next to his lovely Tang Shen. With amused curiosity, he stepped closer to be able to identify the small object. The first thing that he noticed was that it was in the shape of a heart, perhaps a few inches across. Closer scrutiny revealed that the little ornament was made of tin colored wire, bent into the basic shape then decoratively wound with smaller strands of copper. The contrasting colors wove through each other artfully, creating almost a dream-catcher effect. His young Donatello often preferred function over style, but the creativity was there in spades.
Splinter smiled softly and picked the little heart up with reverent care. It had been lying down flat on the shelf, so he chose to instead prop it up against the picture frame to better display the craftsmanship. He stood back and took in the sight of it all, uncertain of the reason but pleasantly surprised nonetheless.
As the boys begrudgingly filtered into the dojo, Splinter caught excited whisperings about how the heart had been moved into a more prominent position. No one had been bold enough to speak loudly of it, so he continued with their training without further distraction.
Lunch was followed by a few hours of education, typically conducted in a relaxed manner now that they were old enough to be accountable for much of their own learning. By the time that Splinter returned to the dojo in preparation for their evening training, he was not surprised to find a third item on the shelf. It was obvious, even from a distance, which of his sons had placed this particular offering.
It was a card, made from the colorful cardboard of a cereal box. It had been cut from the background images so that no silly characters were visible, and the inside had been ravaged by crayons so thickly that none of the plain gray of the cardboard showed. There was a hand drawn family portrait on one side, complete with hearts, flowers, and pizza. On the other side was a message written in Michelangelo's messy scrawl.
To Tang Shen, happy mother's day! If you were here, I would have made breakfast in bed and given you lots of hugs.
Love, Mikey (the best son)
Tears pricked at Splinter's eyes as he set the card back in the shelf. His sons knew of his own love for the woman he had lost, but he no idea that they had projected any feelings onto her memory themselves. There was a sound of feet shuffling lightly into the room, but he kept his back toward them for another few moments to collect himself. Once he turned to face them, he surprised himself by managing to keep his voice steady in instructing them to sit.
They did as they were told, each of them watching his face expectantly. Michelangelo in particular would rock back and forth, glancing between his card and his father. Unable to take the lack of acknowledgement any longer, the turtle blurted out in an eager tone, "Today is Mother's Day. Did you know that? It happens every year!"
Splinter's muzzle curved into a smile. "No, I was not aware of the day. But it warms my heart to see such thoughtful gifts offered in her memory."
Three of the eager and anxious faces broke into joyously pleased grins, as if someone had flipped a switch allowing the bright happiness to flow across their features. The fourth, however, clouded in confused sulking. Concerned, Splinter drew closer to the gloomy turtle. "What is wrong, Raphael?"
Green eyes snapped up at him, a little startled at having been singled out. Raph then lowered his gaze and looked off to the side in a gesture that indicated avoidance. Splinter met this tactic with perseverance, standing silently before his son long enough that the others started to shift uncomfortably. Recognizing his father's technique and knowing that he would inevitably lose the stand off, Raph sighed in defeat and mumbled, "You can't get mad. Because you're making me say it. So you can't get mad, okay Sensei?"
Splinter placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder, his voice gentle with compassion. "You will never anger me by speaking what's in your heart."
Raph stalled another minute, then looked over to the shelf that had been decorated with small gifts. "She's not our mother. She never even knew we existed, let alone feel anything for us."
Leo hissed his name in a quiet scold, but Splinter held up his hand and surprised them all with his next words. "Raphael is right." Four pairs of eyes widened in shock, and their master withdrew to step toward the portrait. Splinter caressed the glass with an obvious fondness. "Tang Shen died before you four came into my life, it is true. She knew nothing of you."
Hearing their father's voice laced with sadness, the brothers started shooting glares at their red banded sibling who devoutly avoided everyone's eyes in shame. Raphael's fists were starting to clench as he regretted saying anything at all, but then their master's voice changed to a happier tone. "Do you boys know why, as a human, I decided to buy pet turtles for companionship?"
Raphael didn't look up, but the other three raised their faces in question. Donatello offered a guess, "Is it because reptiles are generally low maintenance?"
Splinter shook his head and countered, "That would apply to most domesticated reptiles, and I assure you that I specifically wanted turtles."
Michelangelo gave what he thought was the obvious answer, "Because turtles are totally awesome?"
He was rewarded with a chuckle and Splinter lifted the picture into his hands. His eyes lost their focus as he gradually surrendered himself to the past. "Tang Shen loved the turtles." He smiled wistfully, then continued. "She spent as much time down by the pond as she did in her own home. We would walk, we would picnic. We would sit and talk, and laugh, and she would always point out the little sliders that basked on the bank and swam through the still waters. Watching them delighted her, and I would tease her mercilessly when she fawned over how cute they were."
He was silent for several minutes, lost in his memories. His sons sat and waited in respectful silence for him to continue. "When we talked of moving to New York, she worried that she would miss her pond. Her turtles. So I promised her that we would have turtles of our own, wherever we went."
He placed the portrait back on the shelf, and when he turned, his eyes shone with unshed tears. "When I lost her, I felt that my home would never truly be a home without her. As time passed, I decided to make the home that we would have had. The home that she would have wanted." He stepped closer to them again, reaching a hand out to stroke the top of Raphael's head. "That day that's so deeply rooted in our destiny began because I went to the pet store to get the turtles that were meant to be hers. And I know, with every fiber of my spirit, that she would love all of you with her entire heart if she had been given the opportunity."
Four faces looked up at him with shining eyes and soft sniffles. He allowed himself a deep breath, fighting off the tears that threatened to spill. He would be strong, for them. He took a moment to gently touch each of his sons, then adorned himself with a watery smile. "Since today has become a day of such deep reflection, perhaps the rest of the evening should be spent in rest and relaxation. No more training for today.
A week had passed, and the small tokens had been days removed. The vase had been returned to the kitchen and the ferns pressed into a book while the other two items were put away in Splinter's room for safe keeping. Tang Shen's portrait had been returned to its previous unadorned state, and the norm of daily life had returned.
It was evening free time, and Splinter's quiet meditation was interrupted by hesitant sounding footsteps. When he opened his eyes, he found Raphael edging nervously toward the shelf. The rat cleared his throat and cocked his brow in question, igniting a sheepish look to cross his son's features. In his hands was clutched a length of fabric which Splinter recognized as being the result of amateur but devoted knitting. Pinks and reds of various pieces of yarn were woven together to make a crude but very personalized scarf.
The young ninja was bunching the fabric in his hands, his body strumming with nervous energy. His voice wavered with uncertainty. "I, uh, know it's kinda late. But it...it took a while. I had to keep undoing parts of it and it's okay if it's too late to put it up. I just...wanted to do something."
Splinter rescued the scarf from the dangerously wringing hands and shook the wrinkles from it. "It is the desire and gesture that matter far more than any day on the calendar." He made a show of letting his eyes roam over the gift, nodding in approval. "This is very lovely, Raphael. You are becoming quite skilled." The turtle smiled a little bashfully, then a look of awe overtook him as he watched his father lift Tang Shen's portrait to lay the scarf out across the shelf. The picture was then set back down on the fabric covered ledge. Splinter stepped back to admire it with a smile. Raph ventured to ask with some hesitation, "Is it going to stay like that?"
Father and son met each other's eyes, one uncertain and the other immensely proud. The rat nodded once and added, "If you approve."
Raph looked back up at the little shelf, now offering a splash of color to compliment the black and white photo of the familiar smiling face. He tilted his head in agreement and grinned. "Yeah. Mom deserves it."