Shadows

... I love her, for she was and still is my mother! I seek her in my hours of darkness as the thirsty earth seeks the water of the sky! I long for her as the blind man longs for the light of day... I am small of soul, withered of spirit, without her.

★

Yesterday I saw you, Mother, in the street beside your car, talking with a friend of yours and laughing... I felt my heart being crushed as I watched your clothes and your elegance overwhelm everything around you... I did not stir from my place at the shop door, and I kept staring at a glittering necklace around your neck... your beautiful white neck, around which I used to wind my arms whenever the cares of childhood wound their nets around my soul...

Someone wanted to enter the shop, so I made way for him and stood aside, staring once more. Then my soul cried out in anger:

"What a beggar for affection and love you are! What an abject creature, who returns no slap and knows no hatred! Lower your eyelids and go away from her, and do not stare so long, like a simpleton seeing the sun for the first time!"...

So I dragged my feet and moved away, walking slowly, on my shoulders a burden heavy as iron, which neither falls nor melts, but stays there always, crushing my flesh and bone...

I reached the house reeling like a drunkard, and "Mama" leapt from her chair to ask what was the matter, and I said, contending with my tears:

"I saw her. She was on the other side of the road, and as usual I did not dare go near her..."

Her hands rose to my head, taking it like a sick child's, and she whispered:

"Come to bed; you are tired after all that studying, and I will read you something to take away your weariness."

I put my lips to a white lock of her hair and kissed it with trembling lips... And when the warmth of the bed enfolded me I felt a great need to be alone, so I said:

"Mama, I want to think a little, by myself..."

She looked at me sorrowfully, then kissed me and went out quietly... And I wanted to cry out in explanation:

"Mama, come, let me make you understand what you do not understand! I love you! I love you more than anyone in this existence — but I love her too, for she was and still is my mother! I seek her in my hours of darkness as the thirsty earth seeks the water of the sky! I long for her as the blind man longs for the light of day! I need her as a naked body needs clothes... I am small of soul, withered of spirit, without her... Come, let me make you understand that... I love you and will never leave you, for you are 'Mama,' and I shall never forget the first day you were 'Mama' to me, and all the days and years down to this day"...

I stuffed my handkerchief into my mouth to keep the scream from breaking loose from my throat — the scream of a lost, abject soul, cast as a dependent upon the shoulder of life...

I was small, taking leave of childhood, when my life was parted from yours. I never knew my father, though at times I remembered his face, and I thought him one of the people of the other world, as you had led me to believe; but I learned the truth afterward — I learned that he lives in another part of the earth, far from us, after separating his life from ours... I learned it from a mouth other than yours, and I wept for your sake and fell to thinking of you...

You loved me greatly, Mother. Was the truth of that love a truth, or merely the child's fancy in me? I do not know! You would try to bring gladness into my soul by every possible means; you were alarmed at my tears and laughed at my smiles. I would wake in the night terrified by a frightening dream, and you would carry me to your bed, wrapping your arms around my body, and I would sleep... What happened after that, that you became other than my mother — what happened? Everything did not change suddenly, but little by little, and quite quietly... Your glances wandered after their eagerness and longing; your breast grew cold after its warmth and its shelter; your arms slackened after their firmness; all of you changed. You would grow angry at the least annoyance I caused you, and your voice would rise, commanding, complaining, terrifying the maid and stunning me... I needed no sixth sense to know that some strange, intruding thing stood between me and you — or that I stood between you and it — a thing that differed from me, as I differed from it, in everything except in your need of us both... I was bewildered and anguished, like a stranger at a crossroads! How perplexity tormented me then! How I wanted to ask you — nay, to implore you, questioning:

"What has happened, Mother? Why are you other than what you were? Look at me: I am still as I am; I seek you as I did."

Then came that night, the night of wind and storm. My soul filled with terror and I ran to you, hesitant, and said timidly:

"I am afraid, Mama; let me sleep on your knee a little, until the thunder quiets."

You put down a stocking you had in your hand and opened your arms to me, laughing, eager; then a great joy swept over me and I threw myself into your embrace, weeping and laughing at once... Why did that hour not last for years and months? Why did I not pour out to you then all the love and eagerness and longing that filled my soul, and the fear of your drawing away from me? There came a knock at the door then, and you pushed me off you with some force, unaware of what you were doing... I looked at you in fear, questioning; then I lowered my eyelids when I saw the gleam in your eyes, and knew that that intruding thing lurked behind the door, waiting to come in. A wounded anger flared in me, and I looked at you again with a stubborn questioning, waiting for what you wished to say, my heart silently imploring you. You said:

"Run to your bed now; the storm will quiet down in a little while."

Then you left me and hurried to the door. I felt my way through my tears to my room and hid my body under the covers, seeking cover and concealment... The storm did not quiet as you said, but grew in fury and reverberation... I listened to it, dazed and still, without fear or dread, for I was wrestling with a storm mightier and more dreadful than it, raging in my poor heart... I could not bear it, so I slipped from my bed and walked barefoot to the sitting room to discover that intruder. How I hated him, Mother, at that moment — him whom you loved — and how I hate him still! That broad, still face, and those cold, mocking eyes! He looked at me coldly and I looked at him in bewilderment. Then you saw me and gave a faint gasp; then you looked at him, and you looked at me, and we looked at you together. At that moment each of us saw in your face what he wished to see: he smiled, and I drew back, cold-limbed, groping for my way. You came after me, trying to hold me to you and make me understand something I could not understand. I ran, and covered my head with my hands to shut out your voice and your face. You were silent a moment, then left me and went out... You went out, and I stayed listening to the storm, dazed and still, until I fell asleep...

After that I drew away from you, as you had drawn away from me before. I fled from your attempts to bring me close to you, and turned my back on the anguish of motherhood in you...

I did not understand all that was going on around me, but I understood one thing: your heart was no longer mine alone; you had pushed me out of it and crammed me into a narrow corner where I suffocated... You loved him greatly, that strange intruder. He was big and important; he filled our house with his shadow and your hands with his gifts... Do you remember the day he came once while I was writing my lessons, quiet and sad, and he put his arms around you and then tossed me a blue parcel, saying to me while looking at you:

"Here is a toy for you, 'Mona'; I hope it will win your ladyship's approval!..."

I stood up trembling and hurled it with all my strength at his chest and screamed at him:

"Take it — I have no need of these silly gifts of yours! I wish you would leave this house and never come back to it... You are frightening, and I do not love you."

Then the storm burst at your feet, and your voices rose all night long — he threatening and you arguing; then, at the end, he talking and you sobbing... And I knew that you had chosen, and submitted... I did not sob, for my pain was stronger than tears... I stared at the jasmine tree by the window until dawn opened its eyes; then I closed mine and slept...

I woke to find you sitting on the edge of my bed, looking at me. I jumped to the floor, turning my back to you. You came near me and said in a low voice:

"Do you love me, Mona? Do you love Mama, and do you know that she loves you?"

I pressed my lips together and stood stiff-limbed, my gaze fixed on a jasmine blossom...

You cried out in a despairing voice:

"I love you very much, Mona, and I want you to be sure of it! All I want from you now is your help, so that afterward we may be together always... In a week I shall take you to a friend of mine who loves children dearly, to spend your holiday with her. She will take great care of you, and she will make ready for you a beautiful room, far more beautiful than this one, and..."

You fell suddenly silent. I raised my eyes to you and saw the tears covering your face and the despair streaming from your eyes... I threw myself upon you and cried out, as though you were the child and I the mother:

"I will go, Mama, if it pleases you — but never leave me after that"...

You wept and kissed me as you used to kiss me before, fiercely and hard; then you wiped my face for me, and we walked together to the dining table... After that you took me to your friend's house, and there I saw her for the first time — that gentle, noble lady who has been "Mama" to me from that day... She took me in her arms, saying:

"Welcome, my darling. I have made ready for you a room as pretty as you are; you will love it. Come, let us see it."

We went in together, and you stood at the door watching my face, imploring, beseeching. And I said, trying to smile, without looking at you:

"It is beautiful, and I thank you very, very much."

I heard you sigh, as though a burden had been lifted from your shoulder... You left me that day after holding me to you a long while, and you wept. After you had gone I lay on my new bed contemplating the ceiling, dazed and still. Then your friend came in, and I raised to her a complaining, bewildered look. She knelt at the side of the bed and laid her hand on my forehead and said nothing. I said in a quavering voice:

"Will you allow me to call you Mama?"

She kissed me once more and said, laughing:

"That is what I hoped to hear from you, for the word 'Mama' from your mouth means many things — does it not?"

Yes, so it was... I tried to make your memory a frame in which I set her... I wiped from my arms the traces of your arms and stretched my arms out to her... I was thirsty, and she gave me to drink from the wide, great sea of her love... Before I knew it I was coming toward her, hesitant, carrying my affections to her on the palm of my hand, laughing to delight her, happy to make her happy. I wanted her to fill for me a vast emptiness on whose edge I stood; I wanted her to stand before my soul, to ward off from me the desolation of the hungry shadows at the turnings of my days! But how many times could even that noble, beloved woman not fill an emptiness or blot out a blackness! How many times did I hide my face in my hands in the caverns of the nights and sob, crying in a deep, hoarse voice: "Mother, come to me..."

You visited me many times during that summer holiday. You would come elegant and beautiful, the jewels adorning you in your wealth, and I would look at you dazzled, accepting your costly gifts with a trembling hand, and sit beside you — you asking and I answering — until I asked you my one bewildered question:

"When shall I go home with you, Mama?"

And you said, with anguish and a smile: "Soon, my darling; be patient a little"...

Once I came back from school to hear you saying to "Mama," in a voice like a lament:

"I shall send you a sum every month so that you can buy her what she likes; all that matters to me is that you love her as a daughter of your own"...

My head spun and my throat went dry; then the sweat poured from me and I fell to the floor. I opened my eyes to see you, pale of face, tending me. I shut my eyes so as not to see your face in its pallor and its anguish. You said:

"Mona, my darling, I am going on a journey that will take months, and I want you to wait for me here with 'Mama' until I return"...

I stared at the pink coverlet of my bed and said, as though my lips had turned to wood: "Very well, Mother; I shall await your return, and if your absence grows long, do not trouble yourself over me, for 'Mama' loves me dearly and I love her"...

And at the door you put your head between your hands and wept; then you dried your tears and went out with head held high, beautiful as roses...

Your absence lasted long, and when you returned, and he with you, you came back more beautiful and more assured, more splendid and more marvelous — and I was older and wiser, calmer and more understanding: a quiet young girl who swallowed bitterness and drank sorrow, accepting the enormous truth of her life with submission and a bowed head...

You took me in your arms and cried: "Tomorrow — tomorrow, 'Mona,' I shall come to take you with me! Oh, if you could only see the house, and..."

You stopped when you saw my steady gaze contemplating you. And I said, putting my arm around "Mama's" shoulder:

"I am sorry, Mother, and it pains me to say that I can no longer leave 'Mama.' My parting would bereave her if I went... I am happy here, and you are happy there; let us remain as we are."

You started back as though I had slapped you, and for a moment you stood staring at nothing — or at some hidden thing that we could not see — like a mourner lowering a beloved into the earth! Then you lifted your head high and held out your hand to me, saying: "I shall say nothing, my daughter, for this is the least requital I deserve... But you know how much I love you, and God knows my heart will remain with you, and yours, always and always..."

I knew what that calm and command of nerves cost you, for like you I was struggling to stand firm and not to cry out: "There is nothing I can do, Mother, for your great house is for you and your husband, and there is no place in it for me"... I held out my hand to you, speaking to you in silence, and you took it as a drowning man clutches at a rescuer's hand; then you went out quickly, without a backward glance. Then I reeled, and threw myself upon Mama's breast, and sobbed...

After that you drew farther away from me, and great differences divided us. You were the wife of a rich notable; you graced assemblies and society; your name appeared here and there as a doer of good works and a member of institutions! Sometimes you would invite me, with Mama, to some of your parties, and I would go fearful and sit in a corner by myself, like a blind woman who does not know how to open her eyes amid those lights and splendors...

★

And yesterday, after "Mama" left me and I remained alone, I felt an enormous weariness oppressing my soul and my body. I bowed my head in submission and asked myself, with closed eyes: How did I lose you, Mother, and how did you lose me? I do not know! How, and when, did the shadows fall across the face of our days, driving from us the light of the sun! How, and when, did the earth split open, so that valleys cut between me and you! I do not know!

Then I got up and went to pictures of you, old and new, and gazed at them with tenderness and affection... You, with me a child in your hands, smiling. You, watering our garden and laughing. You, carrying me on the shore and making merry! Then your pictures of today: you presiding at a charity function. You in the garden of your great house with friends of yours, conversing. You — you in every picture, and in every pose, you...

My pain overflowed, and I closed my eyes and imagined you in your hours of solitude, closing your eyes as I do and remembering a beloved little girl, stretching out your hands into space, searching for her; and when space and emptiness mock you, covering your face with your palms, fleeing the cruelty of the shadows!... I pictured you receiving the young daughter of a friend of yours, laughing for her while your heart screams, calling for another, crying another name, far away and beloved!... I imagined you in an hour of sickness, the flowers on your right and the medicines on your left, husband and friends with you and around you, and your soul dazed and famished, wishing for her presence alone — that precious daughter — and not all that medley of husband and companions and medicine!...

Then the truth stung me — the truth of your torment. How cruel circumstances were to it, and how cruel it was! I sprang up like a madwoman and cried out for you to hear:

Mother, Mother, I understand now, and I will tell you that I understand! I have forgiven you — so forgive me for what I dried up of the freshness of your life, and what I darkened of the brightness of your days! Here I am now, writing to say that I love you — I love you in every hour of my day and every dream of my night... And tomorrow, when I go out with my classmates from the narrowness of school into the wideness of life, carrying in my hands a white scroll, I shall turn my steps toward the light, where your prayer lies waiting and your heart keeps watch. I shall draw near to you little by little, addressing your soul with my soul, kissing your person with my spirit, taking from you resolve and giving you joy... Then we shall find what was lost and gone astray, and we shall be in spirit what God willed us to be: mother and daughter, like the soul and the body...

And perhaps, O my God — perhaps a day will come when we shall be together: you, and Mama, and I...