I guess you could say that I work in a “mixed neighborhood”. In this case it means a couple of things. It is a neighborhood of small businesses that line the Boston Post Road… a transmission place (two in fact), auto glass, two body shops, a cemetery monument place (every now and then I go and check out the new models), Cablevision, Ash Creek Saloon (known by all as my second “Office”), the Exxon gas station where the courtly Maheesh presides in its “mini-mart”.
Then into this blend of commercial enterprises are the residential homes, or maybe better put “living units”. There are a few houses, always large and somewhat in disrepair… and invariably home to a cluster of people. We can assume that they are of the same family, or in someway connected by kinship, or maybe they just came from the same village.
We also have a small apartment complex that sits on the other side of the transmission place. I guess it would be called “low income housing”. I have an acquaintance that lives there and he pays $1000. a month (I think I am going to have to move to Kentucky). Regardless of the rent, families share flats there as well. Except Howard, now divorced, who lives in a flat by himself.
The other part of our “mixed” neighborhood is the varied cultural background of the inhabitants. Mostly we see South American Hispanics (gee, I hope that word is “politically” correct), some Central American Hispanics, Blacks, Island Blacks & Howard the Jew.
I get to work usually at 7:00AM and I am there ’til 9:00PM on most days… and in that time I get to see the faces & hear the voices. I will see them at “Chez Maheesh” when I go to grab a cup of Joe or a Diet Coke… I will see them when I put out my sand chair and grab some 5:00PM sun in our parking lot (known affectionately as my Lido). I am a marginal presence in their life, as they are in mine… we just happen to be sharing the same place at the same time.
Yesterday brought me out of my desk at a different time… it was only 8:00AM & usually I don’t go out for my first fix of “dark roast” ’til 9:30AM… but yesterday was a beautiful spring morning & I needed to take it in, it was the type of day that makes you feel good to be alive: the sky blue, the air slightly warmer than cool, buds on the trees beginning to show…
I look left and right, taking everything in. I see her approaching from the right… maybe she lives in the apartments down the street. She has red-ish coloured hair, flat and below her shoulders and in her arms she is carrying her daughter. At first glance I thought that, “my that’s a big kid to have to carry around…” But as she approached I could see that the woman was on the petite side, and her daughter only appeared big by contrast… the little girl was actually quite young. The little girl had dark hair and wore a dress, white ankle socks turned down and sneakers. There was a serious expression on the Mother’s face, whereas the child had this marvelous look of comfort… sort of the way a “Joey” looks inside Mama’s pouch, except this “Joey” had her hands intertwined around Mama’s neck.
There was firmness to the Mother’s step, no sense of effort or burden. She merely continued up the sidewalk not troubled by anything and never once having to re-position her bundle.
Some forty yards behind came another woman… a young Black woman… and she is also carrying her daughter in her arms. Maybe they live in the apartments, too. The little girl is sporting several tight braids each decorated with a colourful doo-dad and as her Mother strides up the walk; the girl looks up at the trees and absentmindedly fidgets with her braids.
And like the Mother in front of her, this Mother had no need to shift the weight of her daughter to lessen the load. Each step is followed by another.
Tracy Elementary School is a third of a mile away (maybe a half mile?). And both of these little girls (they have to be in Kindergarten) simply hitched a ride with their Moms.
I am too old to remember being carried by my Mother… I certainly have memories of seeing my kids being carried by Ellen… I loved carrying them, too… and maybe it’s why I love seeing Mothers with children in their arms. Can there be a better feeling than holding a child close to your breast, to feel its rhythm and warmth?
I love watching nature shows… mother lions carrying their cubs in their mouths, mother gorillas tenderly cuddling their babies… there’s something compelling there… something comforting… something that seems to be at the base of life, something that we all need.
And I look again as the two Mothers make their way to Tracy School. I smile. Did the kids really need the “ride”, or did the Mothers really need the press of their daughters’ bodies to theirs?
Maybe this all seems fitting… it’s spring and we celebrate the rejuvenation of life, Mother’s Day is around the corner & we celebrate our Mothers… but more important… it’s just a day and every day is a day to celebrate the love of a child to a Mother & a Mother to a child.
