“WHERE ARE WE?”

The sun woke me gently with an expansive beam cascading over my bed and across the room. I could tell from its intensity it was going to be another hot summer day. As the sun rose in the sky loud buzzing insects replaced the birds’ harmonious songs. I imagined everywhere shared nature’s morning routine but I only knew the Kansas version—its familiar sounds that meant “home”. I liked waking up slowly without an alarm clock or an intrusive knock on the door—rousing me so I would miss the early morning wonder.

My mind slowly began to piece together my upcoming day like a quilt emerging by taking one small stich at a time. It would be a “regular” day. Grandma was expecting me at her house first thing this morning to work in her yard before it got too hot. Then there was the problem of how I was going to convince my mother to let me go to the swimming pool and meet up with my friends in the afternoon. It was too far-fetched to think Mom would give in easily without a fight.

I puzzled about why my friends only talked about boys lately. I listened to them, baffled by why they would care about anyone whose intelligence was so questionable. Why, boys our age communicated by pushing each other around, not unlike 3rd graders. They were, in my opinion, about the most uninteresting people on the planet.

My little “party of five” as we were known had been close since kindergarten. Going through grade after grade together had solidified our friendship. We knew each other backward and forward and even this new development of “boy-crazy talk”, while confusing to me, brought up strong feelings of loyalty and “being there” for my friends no matter what.

Personally, I loved my girlfriends. I loved our camaraderie. I appreciated the time we spent together and liked feeling cared about unconditionally. How could they possibly long for more than that? Why did they even think they could spend time with a boy expecting their company would top ours?

It was a good feeling being loved without question. My family had so many strings attached to their loving. It was a relief just to relax with my friends knowing they would accept me no matter what I said or did.

I hesitated before putting my feet on the floor. I knew full well once I was up my day would push me into the outer world where I didn’t feel as comfortable as I did being with myself. I also knew if I didn’t show my face soon I would get the “lazy lecture” and I just didn’t feel like starting my day with that rant.

My sister had just left for her freshman college orientation. It was different being the only kid in the house. I hadn’t experienced much of a shift when my brother left seven years ago because he was too old to have much to do with me. Other than being allowed to move out of my sister’s room into his, I didn’t notice much of a difference when he was gone. My sister, however, was both my nemesis and ally. We fought constantly; all the while knowing we had each other’s back. We had a complicated relationship—not surprising considering how complex our family was. Not only was I missing her and our bantering but also I had become the single focus of Mom’s attention. I could already feel the tension rising between us.

I just reached into the refrigerator for the milk when Mom came around the corner. My shoulders stiffened and I held my breath. To my surprise she greeted me like a real person. She even asked me how I had slept. I knew something was up because this was not normal.

Then she came out with it. She had planned a picnic with her family that afternoon. “Could I please be back from the pool by 5?” We would be leaving at 5:30 to pick my dad up and meet my 2 aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents. My jaw dropped and I quickly agreed in disbelief. Wow! Being allowed to go to the pool without even asking, or having a fight!

I left the pool a little early and when I walked into the house at 4:30 I could see Mom had been busy preparing food for the picnic. The wicker picnic basket was sitting next to the door, full of fried chicken, Waldorf salad and deviled eggs. The red and white carrier filled with ice and drinks sat next to it. There was even a washtub covered with an old rag rug that I knew contained a metal canister filled with homemade ice cream. The peculiar thing about this scene was that my family always brought a dish to share and Grandma always fried the chicken. Mom had spent the entire day doing everything herself. What was going on?

We picked up Dad from work and drove out to Auntie Lou and Uncle Glenn’s farm. Aunt Loreen and Uncle Tommy, my younger cousins, Lou Ann and Julie, and Grandma and Grandpa were all waiting for us, as usual. The adults decided we would take 3 cars. I ended up riding with my 2 aunts and Lou Ann. I was so used to not asking what was happening that it didn’t occur to inquire about where we were going. I sat up and watched when we stopped. Dad got out of Grandpa’s car and slipped the wire loop over the rough pole. Then he dragged the gate until it was open enough for our cars to pass through.

That was when I began to really pay attention. I saw that my mother was driving in the lead with my grandmother sitting in the passenger side and Julie bouncing around in the backseat. My mother was driving as though she was on the Kansas Turnpike but when I looked closely, there was no road! We were driving across a wide prairie expanse. Fast! Where were we? I had been to each of my relatives’ multiple farms but had never been here. Were we on someone else’s land? Were we trespassing? 

My aunts were trying their best to follow the family code of conduct by not talking about what was actually going on. Even with all their years of experience at staying silent this situation eventually got to be too much for them. I heard my Auntie Lou say a little too loudly, “Where in the hell is Alice taking us?”

I was a little alarmed at the speed we were driving across that pasture just to keep up. Several times my mother stopped and got out of her car to look around. Then she got back in and took off again. Finally my grandpa and aunts caught up to her one of the times when she was stopped and rolled down their windows. There was a tense exchange with Mom but I couldn’t catch exactly what it was.

I was feeling really scared now. This behavior of my mother’s was all wrong. She never did what she wanted, always caving in to whomever she was around, especially her family. I understood because she had taught me to do the same thing. I was no more able to express my opinion or say what I wanted than fly to the moon.

We were up high on a flat mesa that stretched out several miles in front of us. When I looked out over the rolling patchwork farms below I had no idea where we were. There were absolutely no landmarks I recognized that would give a clue. My aunts and grandpa slowed down and I could hear loud bickering going on in my grandpa’s car. I could tell by the tone the men were angry.

After three more stops my mother got out of her car and walked toward the west where the sun was hiding behind a cloud. The high-pitched drone of the chacadas and the angle of the sun distracted me for a moment. Then I saw that my dad and uncles had gotten out of their car and were trying to build a fire to sit around. They were having trouble because the wind was blowing so fiercely. We were up very high and there was nothing to block the gusts. The wind was bending the tall grass almost to the ground.

My grandfather sat silently like a stone, alone in his car with the windows up. I could tell by his profile he was FURIOUS. Lou Ann and I were anxious to get out of the car but my aunts told us with a look to stay put. They leaned in and whispered in voices too low for us to hear. We could tell from their hand motions they were upset.

It was then I looked out over the vista. It was so beautiful it took my breath away. A sudden movement caught my eye and when I turned around I saw my mother. She was near the edge of the hilltop with the sun setting behind her, highlighting her aura with a thin pink glow. Her back was to us and she was singing and spinning around with her arms outstretched. It was as though she wasn’t even aware we were there. My aunts were convinced she had lost her mind. “She is just too happy” they said.

From that moment on I was suspended between 2 worlds. The first was the consistent dependable one my family had created long before I was born, where you were expected to never express any feelings. The other world I had never been introduced to before. In it there seemed to be freedom, creativity and actual happiness.

Set free from the expectations that had encased my mother all her life she was finally overlooking her vista—looking out from her own perspective and celebrating with song and dance. I was mesmerized by her whimsical moves, her grace. She continued on, moving through the life she hadn’t lived, for what seemed like a long time. Everyone else pretended she wasn’t “out there doing that”. I couldn’t take my eyes off her and I edged closer and sat on the hard ground.

I don’t remember whose house we ended up at when the fire wouldn’t start, the wind wouldn’t stop and the family piled into their cars to get out of that pasture before dark. I couldn’t stop thinking about the impression Mom’s “celebration ritual” had imprinted on me—empowerment and permission to trust life and live it fully.

I will treasure this memory with all its oddities forever because it was the only time I saw my mother do what she wanted. The experience, which was SO out of character, left no question in my mind that in those ecstatic moments, she was blissfully happy. I will always remember this extraordinarily restorative interlude, which almost felt like a beautiful dream, when my mom astonished me and made me smile.