I was just a kid when I knew. I knew it for certain. It was as clear as the little pug nose on my five-year-old face. The desire to be a mother first struck in 1949 while watching my mother when she went into a sort of reverie. Wherever it was she went at breastfeeding time, I just knew, I wanted to go there, too. While she cuddled my baby brother, Artie, I mimicked her moves with Cuddles, my much-loved teddy bear. Trying to feed Cuddles only tickled and made me giggle. I could not get to where Mum was but I did recognize, in those nursing moments, my yearning to be a mother.
When I think about Mum and me feeding our babies, everything in the living room of our Rhyl Avenue home in ‘The Beaches’ area of Toronto comes clearly into my mind’s eye. I can see the swirling pattern on the burgundy carpet and feel the prickly green couch on my skin. The bubbles from Mum’s iron-rich stout tickled my nose as I breathed in its pungent aroma. It was my job, at breastfeeding time, to fetch our drinks. I was sometimes allowed chocolate milk on these occasions and on this day it was particularly smooth and delicious.
Mum would have had Mario Lanza playing in the background. One of her favourites back around that time was … “Be my love, for no one else can end this yearning; this need that you and you alone create. Just fill my arms the way you’ve filled my dreams ... there’ll be no one but you for me, eternally. If you will be my love …” The words do make a wonderful love song to sing to a baby. However, for Mum, the words "there'll be no one but your for me" were not accurate. Artie was the fourth child of the eventual six children produced by my parents.
(Mario sings here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8o8SZng55T0)
Watching my mother’s face made me long for whatever it was she had. The only way to become a mother at that age was to imitate Mum’s every move. So, I did just that, either with a doll or with my precious teddy, Cuddles. We took care of our babies together. Whatever Artie got, Cuddles got too. When Mum nursed, I nursed. Cuddles was my absolute favourite pretend-baby but, he didn’t do well in the bath, he just took too long to dry. The story goes that I would sit under the clothes line waiting for him to dry while clutching a paw in one hand and sucking my thumb on the other. That would have been the thumb that tasted like brown sugar.
So, when it was bath time for Artie, my doll came into play for me. Side-by-side Mum and I walked our charges in their carriages or had our babies take their afternoon naps outside on the veranda in the fresh air.
Perhaps because I enjoy movies so much when I think of my life in earlier times I see it in movie scenes. I’ve often created this book’s movie opening in my mind. The credits start to roll over a sepia coloured background. As the camera pulls back we realize we are looking at a helium-filled balloon. The camera continues to pull back and we see that the balloon is tied to the handle of a five-year-old girl’s doll carriage. Beside the girl is her mother pushing a larger carriage.
We watch them from behind as they continue their walk along a sidewalk and approach their home. Together they lift their swaddled babies out of their prams and carry them inside their home. At this point, the opening credits have completed and colour has been introduced to the scene which picks up where I started my story, in their living room at feeding time. The girl now clutches her balloon along with her teddy. Her balloon is green.
Emails welcomed at funeralsarefordancing@rogers.com
Emails welcomed at funeralsarefordancing@rogers.com
No comments:
Post a Comment