In My Mother's Time (8 page)

Nick sat contemplating and with
one hand
my
father grabbed the back
of nicks shirt and threw him toward
the ladder then he picked him up by
his belt and forcibly helped to
guide Nicholas in the right
direction.

“One foot in front of the other”
my
father
commanded.

When the two reached the
top Nicholas wiped his face off as
my
mother
handed
him
a
shot
of
vodka.
He swiftly gulped it down and knelt
by Grace’s
side.

“Hey baby, everything is going to
be fine.” He
swallowed.

“Is it time?” grace asked
my
mother. “Yes Grace it is time.” Mama
said.

“Nick grab a big towel, the
scissors, and the clamps.” Mother
belted.

Nick
ran
over
to
the
table
and
grabbed what
was
ordered
and
stood
next
to
my
mother as Grace’s face turned
purple from
pushing.

“You’re doing a great job
Grace, push!”
my
mother
called.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Grace screamed, “fuf
fuf fuf!” she
breathed.

“PUSH!” mother yelped as the
baby’s head erupted from Grace’s
body.

Nick’s eyes grew big, his face pale.
He became woozy, and plopped on
the floor
unconscious.

“Nick!” Grace
screamed.

“Forget about him he is fine!”
mother barked.

My father came to the
rescue nonchalantly handing
my
mother
the towel
as
she
grabbed
the
baby.
He
then handed
her
a
blue
bulb
from
his
pocket. Stunned
my
mother looked up at
him she had forgotten about the air
ways. She took the bulb from him
and inserted it into the baby’s nose
and throat. My mother clamped
the umbilical cord and clipped
it.

She handed the baby to
my
father
and sewed
Grace
up.
Cleaning
and
dressing her wounds she took her time,
making sure it was right. My father took
the baby to the tub of warm water
and bathed the baby and put a diaper on
it. He
handed
the
baby
back
to
my
mother and she wrapped it up in a
blanket.

“Grace, it’s a girl.” She said
smiling.

Grace looked at
my
mother and
cried happily.
My
mother
began
to
cry
too
as my father came over to hug her for
a job well
done.

“What will you call her?”
my
father
asked.

“Faith” Grace said, “May she
always have
faith.

Mother and father laughed as
Nick slowly came off the
floor.

“Is it over?” he asked
stupefied.

My father walked over slapped him
on the back, and said, “mazal tuv, it’s
a girl.”

Mother walked past
Nicholas.
Together she and father left them
to figure
it
out.
Grace
showed
Faith
off
to Nick and
smiled.

He crawled on his knees to
Grace’s side and whispered, “She’s
beautiful.” He kissed the baby’s forehead,
“I’m your daddy little girl.” Together
they stared at faith bewildered and full
of fear.

My
mother
liked
to
say,”Faith
was
the first baby of the new
world”.

She pretended that everything
was
gone except the people on our farm
in our little patch of land. She
pretended there was no suffering anywhere,
and no one to worry about other
than ourselves.

She said, “Worrying about
invisible people was a waste of time, when
she had seven real people to fuss
over.”

Chapter
eleven

Grace died soon after faith’s
birth. Like a thief in the night Nick
packed some supplies, stole a horse,
and disappeared without so much as
a whisper. Mother raised Faith as
her own. We watched her grow,
and played
with
her
and
soon
other
families came
through.

We
built
farms
just
like
ours
one
right next to the other helping to
provide security and food until they
could sustain themselves we built a
church and a hospital. We built a school and
a market where we could trade
services and products. Each year more
and more
children
are
born.
There
is
even
a cemetery now with a few
dozen
people. The first being
Grace.

There is a capital building now
where we
plan
to
fill
a
vacant
home
with
a presumptuous old man as times
have before, to govern for men who
cannot govern
themselves.
This
man,
no
doubt a fast talking idiot, will tell
everyone his great plan and as great as all
plans are
none
shall
ever
follow
a
direct
path.

There will always be
unforeseen glitches that cannot be
controlled. There will always be men with
fiery tempers, and wild free wills that
like untamed horses run rampant
threw politics.
Screwing
up
society
as
they
go along, willing participants unable
to look away like a fiery train
crash.

In a million years from now
the waters
will
rise
and
take
these
men
out. A descendant of mine will hold
her head strong against the raging
winds carrying her children to safety.
God willing we will survive when
survival is at its lowest. But what I
cannot answer is why; why did we
survive? Who can really
answer?

Is procreation really the only
reason for survival? My mother would
say
family
is
why
we
survive,
because
love is what feeds survival, and we
survive

to love. It is the soul we carry
that makes us procreate to love; and love
to live, to
procreate.

I was twenty five years old then,
and we became a small town ship. We
call ourselves Ville de Bella Township
in Northern Virginia just near the
border of West Virginia. Located on
the Shenandoah
River.

It
is
hard
to
believe
my
mother
started all of it 19 years before in a tiny
metal boat in a horrible storm. This
woman who raised me was not the
same woman that gave birth to me. She
had created this woman that had
stood before
me.
Like
so
many
men
before
us forging civilizations, weaving
myths, and legends bigger than the
men themselves. My mother will forever
be remembered as the goddess that
laid each brick with her tiny fragile
hands.

It is time for me to find a space of
my
own to weave
my
own stories and
find a woman to build a family with.
My
mother hated the idea of me
struggling as she
did.

She said,”The struggles of
my
mother were not intended to be mine, but
to make life easier for me to live
better.”

I know she meant well but I was
eager to leave this place and find
adventures of
my
own. I left and not long after
my
mother
and
father
died
within
weeks
of each other. I was not there for
the funeral
but
I
am
told
everyone
that
ever shook their hands was there.
They carried them through the town
and even constructed a bronze statue of
her that sits in the center of town.
She wouldn’t have wanted me to sit
crying, shed say, it’s a waste of time
because she is in heaven with her soul
m
ate.