A day in Mommyland

A Day in Mommy land

Once upon a time and not too long ago lived two sisters, Tamara and Sabrina.
The oldest was smart and athletic, but very quiet. So quiet in fact there were times you hardly knew she was around. With a small carefully selected group of friends, one just a bit more outgoing then the other, she did the normal teenage things.
The youngest was the exact opposite. Also smart, when you could get her to pay attention, athletic when she really tried but very talkative. So much so, she often held full conversations in her sleep. Anyone and everyone became her friend until they discovered that Sabrina often didn’t play well with others. She loved being the center of attention always on stage. And did everything she could think of to stay there.
It’s only natural that when two such opposites come together there will be friction, conflict and most of the time confusion. So, living under the same roof often became a daily battle.
The house, two floors, was the field. Mom and Dad the referee’s, the game, who could get away with the most before the other caved in, usually in a torrent of tears or a tantrum resulting in broken things scattered on top of the constant clutter.
For some unknown reason, Tamara would explode at the tiniest remark or action provided by her sister. It didn’t take long for Sabrina to notice and eventually enjoy the show.
Watching this intelligent teenager cry and slam things around could be hilarious, if it didn’t involve picking up broken items or a trip to the emergency room.
The house would erupt whenever Tamara did, taking anything and everything along for her ride.
After her storms, the house would settle, Tamara and Sabrina would go to their separate spaces,
leaving Mom to clean up the mess. It seemed Tamara hadn’t learned the importance of insulation
and Sabrina came into the world knowing precisely how to attack the weakest point. Since they
could never agree on much a truce was out of the question.
Then one long sizzling summer it happened. Tamara, at that impossible space of adolescence and
Sabrina in her own impossible place between independence and capability came to a boiling
point. A cease-fire was forced, Mom disappeared! 
She thought, certainly as the adult, she could control the situation. But when it became clear that
the situation had control of her; well…this is what happened on a particularly cool Saturday
morning in August.          
In just three weeks, school was starting; Mom and the media were prepared.
“At long last, maybe I’ll get some rest,” she said that morning walking into the wreckage from
the night before. Mom sank into a chair, and sighed heavily looking at the living room floor. As
usual it was covered in toys, pieces of an experimental art project, magazines and junk mail.
Finally she was able to clear a path for a much-needed cup of coffee and an hour of cartoon free
television. She was just settling into a documentary on an unsolved crime, when she saw a pile of
Barbie’s move. At first Mom barely noticed, but then it happened again. One of the dolls actually
stood up, staggered a bit then fell back on top of the others. Startled, Mom braced herself for
what might come next. All was quiet for a while, the pile of toys moved again followed by
a noise, a prolonged hissing teakettle. A flash of pink light popped and spread out across
the living room.
“What!” Mom exclaimed in near panic.
“Indeed,” Answered a voice.
“Who’s there?”
“Come on down and find out.”
“Down where?”
“Here of course.”
“Where’s here?”
“Oh, please. Just get up and have a look.
Mom quickly scanned the room, the whole house, then went back to the voice and the suddenly
soothing pink light.
“Ok,” Mom demanded, her voice tinted with a hint of anger, “What’s going on?’
“Now take it easy,” the voice replied. “We want to help. Just step in the middle of the light.”
Carefully, slowly, Mom did as she was told; she was very good at that.
“That’s it, now hold perfectly still.”
The light wrapped itself around her, gently picked her up and poof! Without a whimper nor a
whine, Mom was gone.
When she woke up, she was on a mound of feathers and covered with the lightest touch of fabric.
A cool breeze blew gently across a room. A huge open space, dotted with quiet hues of the
perfect blue. Music played softly while a cup of coffee placed itself on a glass table. Turning
ever so slightly, Mom closed her eyes and enjoyed the peace, rest and comfort a while
longer. She had no idea what time it was when she woke up again and realized she didn’t care.
“Good afternoon,” a voice said. “Did you enjoy your trip?”
She was just about to answer when she remembered, the soothing light, moving pile of toys and
another voice or was it the same one?
“My girls!” Mom screamed. “Where am I? I have to get back.” Her words rushed out and stared
back at her then fell, vanishing into the blue open space.
“Don’t worry; the Bully and the Drama queen are just fine. Have a look for yourself.”
A screen dropped from the middle of the room. On screen the usual Saturday morning played,
Sabrina in front of the TV a mound of toys scattered around her. Tamara upstairs, phone at the
ready doing her nails.
“Do they know I’m not there?” Mom wondered.
“Perhaps.”
“What time is it?”
“Time doesn’t exist here. “
“I’ve got to get back from…” her thoughts stopped suddenly. Whatever it was she’d been
thinking didn’t matter. This was nice. Quite. It had been such a long time since Mom had been
able to just kick back and relax. “I’m suppose to be doing something, what I’m not really sure,
her thoughts picked up where they’d been left.
“Oh, I’m sure there is. There’s no right or wrong here either. You do whatever it is you like or
don’t. Here it makes no difference,” her silent question was answered.
“What about my girls? Who will take care of them? What was it you called them?”
“The bully and the drama queen. That is what you call them, isn’t it? We hardly get things like
that wrong. Have we made a mistake?”
“No, no,” Mom laughed. “You got it exactly right.” She relaxed on the mound of feathers and
smiled. Imagine holding a complete conversation without opening your mouth and no
interruptions. Nice. Quite.
Where she was precisely was Mommy land. A space in time on the edge of exhaustion and a
quick right before insanity. A place of perfection at its purest level, a land far far away from the
maddening mundane monotony of motherhood. Your desires are acknowledge, honored even.
Surrounded by your likes, your dislikes vanish. Just thinking about anything was enough.
Mom could get use to this.
“How long has this place been around?” Mom thought.
“Oh, we’ve been here since always, you just have to know how to get here. But we’ve been
known to drag away a few of the most stubborn sorts.” They shared a silent giggle.
After a fashion, Mom got up to have a look around her new home. No doors. Just streams of
pathways leading to more open spaces different sections connected by beautiful black marble
arches Mom slid across smooth deep mahogany floors. The air was crisp and
cool with the same gentle breeze she woke up to following her. Her favorite song was but a
thought away, quickly filling the wide-open spaces. Before long she saw other Moms sitting
around what looked like a lake. The scene was off in the distance. She tried to get closer walking
a little faster but nothing and got any clearer. She could hear pieces of conversations. She
stopped and listened.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked, getting just a little angry.
“That’s the quiet place,” came her answer. “You’re not quite ready for that.”
“Why not?”
“You have too much noise.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just take a minute and think about it.”
Things grew silent. Mom tried to think, really. She sat down right in the middle of the wide open
space and did nothing but think. She closed her eyes and drifted. When she opened them all she
could see were bubbles, hundreds of them. They bounced and danced in the cool breeze, never
landing or popping.
“Strange,” Mom thought. She got up and walked right through them. The bubbles exploded! The
wide open space was suddenly filled with whining, screaming, whimpering, and shrieking. In
between, were tears slamming and shattering, all mixed together in a maddening blend. Mom
covered her ears but that didn’t help. The sounds pushed and poked their way underneath her
fingers, through her ears, traveled along her nerves and sent hot piercing jolts to her brain. She
wanted to scream. She opened her mouth but nothing escaped. Mom couldn’t move, so running
did no good. It was as if she was cemented to the floor. All she could do was stand there and let
the horrible sounds trample and thunder through her. When it was finally quiet, all around and
inside, she uncovered her ears and felt peace. A light touch on her shoulder then a warm
embrace, filling her emptiness wrapping her cold places with a quilt. A feeling of total
completeness washed over her. Mom let go and was lifted up, high into the air, swirling
with the breeze, twirling among the softness dotting the clear perfectly blue sky. She drifted out
and towards the distance she couldn’t cross earlier. The shadows came into focus slowly. The
pieces of words sewed themselves into complete conversations. She landed at the edge of the
group. Mom quickly joined in, laughing and talking about things adults laugh and talk about
when children aren’t hanging nearby. Slowly the afternoon took shape towards twinkling
evening.
“Do you miss your children?” The question floated up to the waiting open sky.
“Of course. But it’s not as if you’ll never see them again.”
“Really? You mean I can go back?”
“Any time you’d like.”
The rest of the evening slipped beyond the stars.
It was also evening back at home. The day seemed to have marched to its own rhythm.
Dinnertime, someone got up, came downstairs and started cooking. It looked like Mom,
sounded like her. From Mommy land, Mom watched not believing what she was seeing.
Had some one taken her place? Who was she?
“You didn’t really think we’d just leave them all alone did you?”
“Well…”
“Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d get into?”
“No. I suppose I hadn’t thought too much about that. I guess I just didn’t care. I’ve been having
such a good time.”
“Which is just how it should be. When you’re ready you’ll go back.”
Mom continued watching herself move through each task with precision.
“Is that me?” she wondered.
“No, just what you do.”
Now Mom was confused. She started to feel the sounds trying to return.
“Careful,” the voice warned.
She relaxed immediately and the sounds stayed away.  As she kept watching, Mom was suddenly
struck. She could see through each little thing, there was nothing inside! She could see inside
herself. Transparent. Was this body occupying her space really her? It was too much. The wide
open space, uncluttered and free, quickly became small, tight the air no longer cool and crisp.
Mom was terrified.  “What’s happening!” she cried.
“Nothing’s happening, it already has. That is what you are, or rather the remains. Who you are is
here.”
“I don’t look like that!” Mom’s thoughts screamed. “That thing down there is ugly-horrible.
And it was monstrous. A huge blob oozing stuff- pieces of molded food, torn paper, broken toys
sticking out, car tires for legs. Thousands of tiny arms moving, eyes hanging at odd angles
everywhere. Above its head, a swirling mass of things to do all jumbled together a hopelessly
tangled mess.
“Is this what my girls see?”
“No. All of that is underneath. They see the layers.”
“That thing is me?”
“No not completely anyway. That thing is what you left behind. Your chaos. All the noise, drama
incomplete and unfinished.”
A new day rose, bright shining and reaching towards promise. Mommy land splashed with
possibilities. Mom said good morning to each one as they reached up into the open sky. Nice,
quite. A day uncluttered, free from that thing down there. But was she really? The question
unraveled then was swept away. For now this day belonged to Mom, her alone. She was part of
the quiet, the wide open spaces. Mom closed her eyes and drifted back to that space of spirit
where she first heard the stories of her heart. “How long can I stay?”
“As long as you like, no one back there will know the difference. They don’t see you anyway.”
“Really?” Mom was stunned. She’d always felt that but had never heard the words. Hearing
them now, seeing them take shape and wrap themselves around her, was more than a bit strange.
The feeling became real. A solid figure staring back at her. “Hello,” Mom greeted.
“Hello to you to.”
“You talk?”
“Of course, here all feelings have a voice. How else could we make ourselves known?”
Mom was puzzled, quite. But it did make sense, sort of. Feelings were real after all, so why
shouldn’t they be able to respond? That simple fact didn’t make it any less strange.
“You aren’t loosing your mind.” Her unspoken question answered. “Giving your heart a voice
lets the hidden be discovered.”
Mom was lost again in the quiet, remembering her song. It took a while yet very slowly she
could feel the music take shape then move in front of her. The rhythm danced. Moms’ rhythm.
She reached out and touched it. Imagine! Actually touching your song. Its beat filled the quiet.
Mom floated up, glided on the music. Up. High into the blue stuff, to where her spark began.
She watched as her flame flickered, faintly. “It’s still there?”
“Yes. Go. Feel its’ warmth.”
Mom moved toward her flame, immediately surrounded by the brilliance, mom and her dream
touched. They bridged the distance of then and now, spanned that space between obligations and
duty and danced. The tune of youth and innocence pushed away the blaring harshness of her
reality back to that moment before Mom became lost to herself.