"Bring them back?" "Speak?" This is becoming too ordinary to lead to anything transcendent. I am looking for something outside this realm: angels, visions, haze in the distance — something I can't quite make out and therefore must judge to be from a higher plane. Something spectacular. Something that is probably right on the other side of that door. Maybe I'll just open it a crack and see what is there.
The knob turns easily now, the door opens outward. My heart begins to pound in anticipation of what I am about to encounter. Before I can determine who or what is out there, my daughter appears before me.
Kimberly, what are you doing here?
You tell me, Mother; you're the answer lady. You always seem to know everything. I still hear your voice, know what you would say in every instance. You did a good job on me, Mother!
Are you being snotty?
I don't think so, but then again I really don't know. I almost never know what you are talking about. Why don't we bring in Vicki, she would probably know. In fact, let's bring in the whole gang so you can hear what we all have to say.
Do I want to hear what you have to say?
I understand you are here searching out truth.
And you have it?
Now who's being snotty! Yes, I have my truth; are you interested in it?
I don't know. It could be painful.
You always said that is how we grow. Not to run away from pain. Remember when Laurie Hellinka was kicking me in the knees all day long under my desk and I came home crying? You told me about how cruel people can be and how harmful it would be for you to get involved, that I would never get strong and learn how to work with life if you went to school and handled it for me. Remember?
Yes. I even remember standing on the third step down in the basement with you on the landing so we were almost eye to eye. The anguish I felt at that moment was perhaps as great as your dread of the next day with Laurie. Was I really helping you or was I just not wanting to get involved in a messy situation? Did I sacrifice you to my own cowardice? At the time I had both feelings running side by side within me. Which was the actual motivation: the good, nurturing one...or the selfish one?
So that's what you're doing here, asking yourself whether you were a good mother. Or are you asking me?
I know better than to ask either one of us that question, because neither answer really matters. I was what I was.
Sounds good to me! Now can I leave?
I guess so.
I'll send Vicki in.
Hey, wait, maybe I don't want to be doing this.
Hi, Maman.
Hi, Vic. How are you?
Well, I'm pretty good actually. Last week was bad but this next one should be better.
Oh, really? What happened last week?
It's the end of the school year and my students feel like they can just drift off instead of paying attention. I teach up to the last second of the year, so a lot of my time is spent trying to discipline them.
Ah, yes, discipline. That was always my battle cry: discipline. Although with you, Vic, it was almost automatic. You seemed to take charge of your life from the beginning. Was that because you saw me so involved in my own life you sort of knew you were on your own?
I don't know. I didn't see you that way. At least I don't think I did. Are you OK, Maman?
Yes.
Well, if you don't need me I guess I'll be leaving.
Don't need you?
Well, yes. I don't see any of your usual pots and pans or heaps of yarn scattered about, so I'm assuming you're here to do some heavy-duty thinking, and for that you always needed your quiet time.
Hmmmm, yes, quiet time. Well, I'm glad you dropped by.
You bet. Take care, Maman.
Bye, Vic.
Does Mom want to see me next?
Deb? Is that you out there?
Hey, Mamma Doo.
Deb, what's going on?
Nothing really. I just saw Vic leave and heard your voice in here.
Isn't this strange? It feels like I'm saying goodbye.
Don't talk like that; you're gonna make me sad.
This is getting to be like one of those sappy movies where the dying mother calls all her children close to her and says her final words.
You're not dying are you?
We're all in the process of dying, aren't we?
No. I mean really dying.
I don't think so.
What did you say to Kim and Vic?
Not much. They stopped by and we chatted for a minute or two. But I didn't say much of anything.
Well, don't say anything to me either, OK?
OK.
Do you want any water? A blanket or something?
No. Thanks anyway.
Why don't you leave? This place is kind of lonely.
I'm not through doing something very important...I think.
Will you be OK?
Yes, Deborah. I don't want you to worry about me.
I guess I'll be goin' then.
OK. Bye, Deb.
Jimmy, you're next.
This is stupid. I'm not going in there!
Jimmy, you better go in. Mom wants to see you.
OK, OK, don't push me. Hey, Dude, Deb said you wanted to see me.
Jimmy, I did not ask to see you.
OK. Bye.
Wait a minute. Don't go yet. So, what's going on?
Nothing.
Jimmy, are you sure?
Yep. Hey, man, this place gives me the creeps.
I know.
Why don't you just leave?
I can't.
Oh, yeah. You haven't analyzed everything yet.
That's real nice, Jim.
I see you're here alone. Where are all the down-and-outers you usually hang out with?
I needed to be alone.
I get the message. See ya later.
Wait. Jim? Oh well!
That was short and to the point. I guess they didn't want to hang around too long for fear of getting another one of my famous lectures; or worse than that, winding up in one of my character-building exercises like "The Parable of the Onion Rings." I bet they never forgot that one.
I felt money was not to be wasted on things that weren't necessities. And it was I who determined what necessity meant. Going out to eat was not one of them. On the other hand, there were all these fast food places tempting customers to drive on in. Jack-in-the-Box restaurants were the greatest lure for us.
After a particularly testy week at home, I agreed to a luncheon outing. Ordering was always a major problem — the kids wanted it all and felt hungry enough to consume it. But I knew only a relatively small portion would be eaten before the "I'm too full, do I have to finish this?" chant would begin. Hating to waste food or money, I decided it was a good opportunity to teach my children about harmony and trust.
Everyone wanted onion rings. "Yes!" And a whole order at that. "Yes, I can too eat them all!"
The instructions went like this: I will get only two orders of onion rings for the four of you. You will pretend there are tons of onion rings here and you can eat as much as you want. You must not look at the others' places to see how fast they are eating or how much they have piled before them. When you want another onion ring because you really have a taste for it, you may take another one from the bag. You must not check the bag to see how many are left. Ask only of yourself: Am I enjoying this? If you reach for another onion ring and the bag is empty, I will buy another bag and will continue to do so until everyone has had enough. This is the test: Can you live with only your honest need, or will your fears and greed create an appetite for more than it takes to be satisfied?
"Four hamburgers and two orders of onion rings please." I then sat back and watched the lesson unfold.
It didn't work. Eyes were darting every which way. Hands, still greasy from the last grab, grabbed again and again. While no one actually complained to me, there was the usual cloaked form of tattling: "Jimmy, did you hear what Mom said? Only take another one when you really want it."
I did not have to buy another bag to satisfy anyone's need because, before the meal was over, they all developed stomach aches from the tension. No one actually tasted what was eaten. Nothing was learned. What was reinforced, however, was that they never knew what Mom was going to do next, but for sure it would spoil a good time.
Speak.