A quote inspired this memoir-fable:
“The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.” Peggy O’Mara
A young child named Mija peeks over an almost-painted fence surrounding a garden and a house.
It is a beautiful garden, filled with the perfume of roses. A colorful multitude of rose soldiers guards the walkway leading to the front door of the house. Vines of pink roses overwhelm a rickety trellis and lazily drape over the roof of the porch. Resting on the front steps, a white bulldog named Shorty must be carefully petted so as not to get bit. Huge hydrangea blooms dot a yard that includes emerald green patches of hilly grass for driving matchbox cars cross-country. Out back, a half-dozen fruit trees and a chicken coop filled with parakeets, a macaw, and no chickens align either side of a goldfish pond made with abalone shells. Occasionally, a blurpy bubble escapes the thickened algae goo, declaring at least one fish lives.
Ignoring the garden, Mija watches the world on the other side of the fence. THE WORLD seems busy and scary. Behind her…or from inside her…a mad-mad Ice Queen sweetly says what she always says.
“It’s worse out there…”
“Dangerous...”
“You’re going to get dirty…”
“I wouldn’t go if I were you.”
Mija doesn’t climb the fence or try to use the squeaky gate, worried there could be more to fear on the other side of the fence. At least the fears in the garden, she knows. Mija retreats to sit next to Shorty, and from further afar, she watches THE WORLD do as the world does…. And waits for something to change.
Years of no-thing pass; the fence roots firmly into Mija, noticed but not noticed, a familiar wall between thoughts and dreams. As the garden ages, vivid blooms fade until the picture blurs and curls at the edges. Shorty’s growls quiet until they, along with the goldfish, parakeets, Macaw, and Ice Queen, become ghosties.
The invisible Ice Queen still speaks so often that it’s almost as if she breathes using Mija’s lungs. Alone on the stoop, Mija sorts through the words she hears as her life minutes die one by one.
“For God’s sake, why can’t you just do what I say?”
“You are a bad girl.”
Mija wonders if she truly is a bad girl. The Ice Queen answers for her.
“You ought to know by now, oughtn’t you?”
Mija sighs,
“Iguesssoyes.”
The litany runs even while Mija sleeps, and like the fence and garden, the voice is noticed but not noticed, a “just is” normal. One ordinary day, the noise of the litany is so loud that Mija covers her ears and moves to stand.
The Ice Queen shouts to get her attention.
“If you leave the front step, I won’t be here when you get back…”
Mija slowly walks toward the fence, as though testing if this is true.
The Ice Queen, just like her name, doesn’t melt. Her rage is so big, the Ice Queen can only whisper her worst.
“I don’t have a daughter.”
Mija thinks this means maybe she is dead or never born and does not remember.
Sadly, Mija asks no-one and every-one a question.
“Is this all there is?”
A young-old man appears on the other side of the fence. His face is familiar, as though noticed but not noticed. It seems he may have been waiting for Mija’s question for a very long time.
“How well do you suppose I know you?”
Startled, Mija sing-song laughs, her laughter abruptly ending because Mija has realized… No one knows her at all. Not even her.
The young-old man speaks, but the Ice Queen’s chatter drowns him out.
“Bad girl… I don’t even like you. You make me sick. What the hell is wrong with you? Suit yourself… I won’t be here.”
The young-old man’s words come to Mija in single digits and have little meaning.
“Could it… possible... leave… all… behind?”
The question pierces the chatter, and a different voice rises from every-where and no-where.
“Mija, its a me.”
Mija wonders who this me is. The voice answers.
“Does it matter who this me is?”
“Iguessno.”
The me voice continues…
“Maybe it is possible. Maybe it could all be left behind.”
The young-old man’s voice is heard again.
“Mija, you’re a brave girl who survived.”
This is the opposite of everything Mija has ever thought before. The young-old man’s voice grows louder.
“Did you hear what I said? You’re not bad, Mija. Not one bit. Not one piece of you is bad.”
Mija shrugs big.
“Wel-l-l-l-l-l-l… me, no-not good either.”
The young-old man on the other side of the fence laughs.
“What is good anyway?”
Mija laughs too, with another shrug so big it steals her ears.
“No-not-me-know!”
When the laughing ends, the young-old man says,
“You know, I think good would be really hard to understand inside that fence. Would you like to try it over here on the other side?”
Mija thinks so hard that tears shove against her eyeballs. These almost-droplets are so curious, she doesn’t notice her feet have moved until her rubber-toed sneakers squeak-press against the gate and her hand is at the latch. A flock of Ice Queen chatter hovers beside her as though unsure what to do next.
The gate latch resists Mija’s fingers. From every-where and no-where, the caress of the me voice reminds Mija that, though she has never truly cried, her tears do exist.
“Mija.”
The girl flinches, every cell of her waiting for the infliction of more pain. A prey animal, certain monsters will return.
“Mija, be free.”
May the truth of our connectedness and the sacred value of every person be the guiding light of our existence.
I love the simplicity of the profound message in this piece.
Well done!
This one just leveled me … I know she made it out … I tried to stay focused on that. She left the yard. But still. Her heart. 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵