Life structures of a Story

Woven Threads of Motherhood: A Journey of Choices, Sacrifices, and Unanswered Questions"

Once, on a Friday night, a grand celebration unfolded to honor my mother's remarkable 40 years of service to the city. As tales were spun, reflections cast, and a movie chronicled her life, one story emerged, piercing my soul with its dark and difficult essence.

In the late 1960s and early '70s, my mother, a storyteller of renown, traversed schools in Manhattan, Harlem, and the Bronx, captivating minds with tales from Many Lands. The movie painted a vivid canvas of her career, rich with interviews, unseen photographs, and a tale that transcended the ordinary.

Amidst this celebration of her accomplishments, the narrative unfolded to a moment in the late 1970s. An impassioned desire led my parents and me to Haiti, a journey where my mother fell in love with the country, its stories, and the captivating storytelling culture. A pivotal moment surfaced at a storytelling congress, where my mother, torn between duty and desire, made a choice that resonated with both courage and consequence.

The story, like all profound tales, bears layers of complexity. It speaks of pride in my mother's work in Haiti, of my father's unconventional support, and my mother's resilience and courage. Yet, beneath the surface, questions linger about the impact on a very young child - me. Unanswered queries, fueled by my roles as a daughter, mother, writer, and wife, echo through the narrative.

Reflecting on my own choices as a mother, I am reminded of leaving my oldest son at a tender age to attend a conference and the subsequent complexities of balancing motherhood with personal aspirations. The stark contrast between the mother I envisioned and the one I became shapes my journey, where daycare became a lifeline, and the pursuit of writing and work outside the home defined my identity.

As I navigate the intricacies of motherhood and artistic pursuits, my thoughts converge on the intricate dance between gifts and burdens inherited from my mother. A sense of pride, work ethic, love for stories, and an ability to listen and be still – gifts that oscillate between life-saving and poisonous.

The story comes full circle as the celebration unfolds in real-time - my mother being honored for her career, the personal relationship exposed in public, and the realization that the gifts passed down are both a blessing and a challenge. The internal conflict intensifies as I grapple with the perennial question: Can one be a good mother and an artist simultaneously?

In the midst of my contemplations, reality beckons – the morning ritual with my son, the preparations for a day of storytelling, and the unrelenting questions about choices, sacrifices, and the elusive quest for balance. As I stand on the precipice of uncertainty, the journey continues, each step laden with pride, anger, and an inexplicable mix of emotions. The meaning remains elusive, the answers scant, but the journey persists – a testament to the intricate tapestry of motherhood and the relentless pursuit of self.

In the midst of my contemplations, the narrative transitions to the immediacy of reality, where the everyday demands of motherhood take center stage. The morning ritual unfolds as a poignant scene, a delicate dance between the responsibilities of caring for my son and the internal musings about the complex tapestry of my own life.

The "morning ritual" refers to the daily routine of waking up and attending to the needs of my youngest son, Judah. This routine involves the intimate tasks of feeding, dressing, and preparing for the day ahead. The term "ritual" suggests a regular, almost sacred, sequence of actions that characterize the start of each day.

Simultaneously, the mention of "preparations" alludes to the practical aspects of getting ready for an eventful day of storytelling. This involves gathering essentials such as snacks, extra clothes, notebooks, pencils, and games – a meticulous process born out of my propensity to be prepared, even if it means going without certain conveniences like an infant car seat.

The inner conflict is palpable as I grapple with the logistical challenges, symbolized by the concern about fitting into a taxi with the infant car seat. This struggle embodies the intricate balance between personal pursuits and the responsibilities of motherhood, highlighting the sacrifices made in the pursuit of creative endeavors.

As the day unfolds, the narrative paints a vivid picture of a chaotic yet deeply meaningful existence. Balancing the demands of motherhood with personal aspirations, the internal tug-of-war is evident in the contrast between the desire to attend to my creative pursuits and the simultaneous awareness of the responsibilities towards my children.

The closing scene captures the complex emotions of witnessing my mother's storytelling performance, where pride and anger coexist. The journey becomes a paradox – a blend of conflicting emotions, unanswered questions, and an ongoing quest for understanding the intricacies of being a mother, wife, and artist.

In essence, this part of the story delves into the intersection of daily life and contemplation, underscoring the challenges and rewards of navigating the roles of a mother and an artist within the intricate fabric of existence.