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Droplets of Memory
Tigress in the Twilight

In this world, I consider myself fortunate and blessed to live a life surrounded by people who love and care for me. My mother in particular is the lifeline from which I draw the strength and encouragement that enables me to overcome obstacles. Not long ago I learned just how far her efforts reached, and of the many lives she continues to touch other than my own. In a sense, she is a strong beam of light dispelled by a glowing candle, banishing the shadows that fill the darkest corners of the most trying experiences. I have found that no matter how difficult or hopeless the situation, it is always possibly to pull through with the help of my courageous mother.
My mother doesn’t know when to quit because the very idea invites defeat. Perhaps there, deep within her stubborn nature, lies the heart of her unbreakable strength. But like most people, she wasn’t born like that. My mother started out as any other child might; loved and adored. However, once she acquired some years, life’s hardships began to reveal its true set of fangs.
During brief inquires about her past, and the childhood she had experienced, I quickly discovered that greatness could potentially come from terrible darkness. In the case of my mother, I found that she had grown up in poverty, depending on the small salary my grandmother made from day to day. In addition, my mother had to endure the harsh criticism of not only her very own father but also other children her age, and was quick to hate them for it. Yet despite this, she fostered a deep love for her two younger siblings: Kenny and Ginger. As the oldest, it was my mother’s responsibility to take care of them, lest punishment by administered for some exhibited, harmless fault.
Therein lies the heart of my mother’s courage --- perhaps it was a responsibility she did not ask for, but in accepting it, she took the first steps toward become a protector; a guardian. A being that sacrifices one’s own wellbeing for the sake of others.
To this day, I am startled by the events of her childhood that she chooses to share with me. They are as alien and unseemly as a nightmare I may have woken from some nights past. But I know through the conviction in her tone and steady gaze, that what may seem phantoms to me, are a dark reality that continue to haunt her every day.
When I asked her about the cold winter morning when she fought to save the lives of her siblings, I could not help but sit straighter with carefully reigned interest. What I heard was no mere story, but the retelling of an actual, factual event.
“I knew school was closed. “ My mother said at length. “There was no way our school bus could drive through three feet of drifting snow.”
My mother had grown up in the farmland of southern Illinois. Every morning before the bus arrived to pick her up, she had to walk a mile down a dirt road that lead to the main one. In the winter, it was especially difficult to do. Wearing nothing but home made mittens, scarves, and fall jackets not suited for the harsh weather of winter, my mother and her two siblings tried their best to push their way through the thick snow. Each time they reached the end, their bodies were frozen stiff with the cold.
“It wasn’t all that bad,” My mother added quickly. “At the end of the road was an abandoned 2-Door Maverick. We would huddle inside, your Uncle Kenny, Aunt Ginger, and I. Sure it wasn’t much, but it kept us warm until the bus came.” She paused for time, before continuing in a somewhat darker tone. “Then again, it didn’t always come.”
I knew almost instantly of what morning in particular she was alluding to. It is a memory of hers painted vividly within the corners of my proud heart.
It was already morning; the sun was visible through the thick clouds. Yet, despite the produced light, the white land remained shrouded in a grey darkness.
Amidst the waves of endless snow, my mother walked some distance ahead of my uncle and aunt to try to make a temporary path. She was by no means taller than the two, but felt an inane sense of duty to lead the way.
“Mary…I w-wanna go back. It’s too cold today.”
My mother never missed a stride. “It’s winter, Ginger. It’s cold everyday.”
“Yeah, but its c-colder than usual,” Kenny whined.
A few yards away, the rusted bulk of an old car lay embedded within the nearby ditch. Seeing it, my mother doubled her efforts and slowly carved the way through the heavy snow. Behind her, the sounds of ragged breathing rasped through the dry, frozen air.
“We’ll be warm in a second, you two. We’re nearly there.”
When they finally reached the abandoned car, my mother made quick to get the back door open. It was difficult. The snow was very deep and had nearly swallowed the frame of the small vehicle, but with some encouraging words from my mom, Kenny and Ginger helped clear some snow, and were able to force the rusted hinges loose from their slumber. Once inside, all three of the children huddled close together on the black vinyl seats.
They waited for the usual time. Given the weather, my mother judged the bus would have a more difficult time than was usual. My mother sat mostly in silence, but always remembered to tease her siblings every now and then.
“Stop pouting, Kenny. Don’t be such a baby.”
Kenny scrunched up his flushed face, screwing his watering eyes shut. Next to him, Ginger sniffled into a red, hand knit scarf wrapped tightly about her face. Both of them were trembling.
“Oh come on, you two! Grow up. It is no the end of the world. Why can’t you guys understand that it takes time for the bus to come?”
It was not done for sport or play, nor did it have much do to the fact that they were even misbehaving and she felt it her right to scold. My mother’s actions were done for an entirely different reason.
To keep them awake.
Snuggled close as they were, and within the sheltering frame of the old, iron womb, they were quickly growing numb, not the usual cold that simply steals heat but the kind that within a single sigh could take a life.
My mother, despite her youth, knew with painful clarity that if they surrendered to the overpowering cold, and fell into a listless, numbed slumber it would invite the shroud of death. The knowledge terrified her, adding to the already violent shivers wracking her small form.
There was no going back. They barely made it to the car; who’s to say they’d even make it back? And if they did by some miracle get back home, what might await them would be far worse than the frozen cell they had fled form.
“Mary, I d-don’t w-wanna w-wait anymore….” Ginger cried weakly from my mother’s left. Beyond her, Kenny nodded his head quickly in a jerk-like movement; his teeth chattering loudly in the cold.
“WIMPS!” My mother spat with as much venom as she could muster, sitting up straighter in her seat even as a small fire within her heart died. “I told you, we just have to wait a little bit longer!”
“I’m c-cold.” Kenny bit out woefully.
My mother lurched upright; looming over the other two with a terrible expression of rage mixed with fear dancing across her small face “I know! I’m cold too, but you don’t hear me whining and complanin’ like some awful crybaby!”
This newest set of insults was enough to force both younger siblings into twin fits of crying. As my mother watched the warm tears leak trails down their faces, and listened to them sob, she could only sit back and sigh with a small amount of relief. She felt that for a time the danger was finally at bay.
However, a few minutes’ later found the cavity of the car deadly quite. My mother jerked upright, blinking her eyes quickly to notice a fine glaze was blurring her sight. When realization finally struck her thoughts, she turned to find Ginger and Kenny slumbering mutely beside her, their chests barely rising.
Panic shot through her heart like the shot of a rifle.
“Ginger, wake up! Kenny!”
When no response came to my mother’s shouts, she desperately shoved Ginger, who was sitting nearest to her.
“GET UP! I SAID WAKE UP YOU IDIOTS!” My mother screamed, her heart threatening to leap right out her chest. “MORONS! WAKE UP!!!”
Before her, Ginger’s eyes began to flutter; a dull groan bubbling forth from her blue lips. A moment later her eyes were open, staring wonderingly at my mother perched above her. “Mary…? Was w’ong?”
My mother ignored her and moved on to Kenny who remained motionless at the opposite side of the car. Her eyes were mad with fright.
With shaking hands, she grabbed Kenny by the collar of his jean jacket. She shook him with all her strength, screaming obscenities into his face. Ginger, who was finally awake, began to cry, sobbing as she listened to my mother curse vehemently at her younger brother. All the while Kenny barely stirred.
Stricken with rage and terror, my mother pulled back her hand and swung it down across Kenny’s sleeping face.
“COWARD!!!”
Upon impact, my uncle’s eyes flashed open and his face, though dazed, became clearly awake. The effect on my mother was immediate. Tears leaked from her wide eyes, only to be wiped away roughly by the back of her icy hands. She watched Kenny with numb satisfaction, breathing what felt to be her most heavy sigh, while Ginger continued to cry beside them, not yet aware that the danger was gone and over.
Over the sound of muffled sobs, mild threats, and the rapid beating of my mothers racing heart, a voice carried through the steel walls from the outside.
They all turned in shock towards the sound, recognizing it immediately. With their realization, a silence enveloped the back seat; their small hearts suddenly filled with unhinged hope. They were going home.
As I replayed the imagined events of that powerful day within my mind, my mother listened quietly on the other end of the phone. She was so quiet I scarcely heard her breathe. After a length, I said simply, “You could have died.”
A moment’s silence passed before my mother chose to reply.
“No. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”





 
 
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