A Mother's Legacy

Becoming Queen of My Own Queendom!

So, that was remarkably how it happened. My Prince arrived, there was a period of courtship and then we were married and I officially became Queen of my own Queendom.

There was much to do. My Queendom was in disarray! The garden was completely overgrown, the pantries empty, the orchards in need of pruning and cobwebs and dust aplenty. My Prince proved himself eminently useful. He was a real action man. All I had to do was make the list and he would systematically work his way through it. Things started to happen. A magical transformation was taking place.

My heart just wanted to sing! As I watched my Queendom grow in splendour I found myself more and more often in a celebratory mood. Dressing in the morning became a creative task. My wardrobe suddenly seemed like a child's dress up box full of endless possibilities. I took to wearing flowers in my hair and draped myself in intense colours and lovely fabrics that whispered around me.

With my vision and my Prince's extraordinary work ethic, my Queendom was suddenly bursting at the seams with potential. And, boy, oh boy!.....I had PLANS!

The Prince in the Cupboard!

For years I lived with an Ogre of Unpleasant Proportions. He was critical, distracting, grumpy and selfish. I got to the point where I chose not to engage in conversation because it always ended up the same. His repetitious negativity became so boringly predictable. Even while ignoring him he took up a lot of space and wasted an enormous amount of my energy. He sat on the vacuum cleaner so I couldn't clean. He locked the front door and hid the key so I couldn't go out. He followed me around putting things in my way so I was constantly tripping up.

Finally, I had had enough. In the middle of a whingy gripe, I turned on him. I locked eyes on him. "You are not welcome here. I know where you came from and you can't fool me that you belong here. We are not related. You are an alien. Get out! I am not listening to you any more. Get OUT!"

He was caught off guard and took a staggering backward step, mouth agape, reaching out behind himself to steady his step. I capitalized on this. Stepping forward, I reached past him and flung open the front door. Taking a second step, I gave him a shove in his bulging belly and pushed him out the door, slamming it shut the moment he was through it.

To my great surprise, in this same moment, a cupboard behind me swung open and out tumbled a handsome prince. He stood up and brushed himself off, smiling at me winningly. "You just as I imagined all these years!" he grinned. "I am at your service."

When the little girl returns.

Like Spring, she returns fresh, bubble full of dreams and striding, wide winged into whatever weather the day holds. Problems are puzzles to be solved by playing them. Journeys are their own reward. Everything is labeled "Adventure". The air quivers with a light quick breath, beating in time with her small, strong heart. Each step is the next step and that is all she needs to know. She is here and there in a moment. Her basket filled with treasures for the giving.

When it's safe and she's ready she returns. Into the warm silence of gentle sunlight she steps, singing her neat sweet song like a sparrow. The lyric is always the same. "Enough".

She

The hearth-light licked my face and a warmth soaked through my clothes and glowed in my body. She sat in silhouette, a little to the left of the hearth, bent over her mending, humming a deep tune. Her hair, once deep red, was streaked through with silver and tied in a loose plait down the middle of her long back. The earth-room felt like a golden bowl that held us both.

She did not speak. She did not turn. I was drawn to her and sat on a small hand-made stool beside her.

Suddenly she lifted her face, as if she hadn't heard me coming, dropped her mending and threw her arms out wide in an invitation to embrace. As I fell against her and locked my arms around her full body, I sighed into a sea of gentleness. All weight fell from my shoulders and the tight lines in my face softened. I wanted to stay just like this forever.

She grasped my shoulders in her strong bony hands and held me back at arms length, looking deeply into my eyes. I felt like she was drinking me, though I was also drinking her. Instead of crumpling under scrutiny, I sat tall and knew I was beloved.

Florence's staircase

a small door

and while I was waiting...I noticed, to my left, a small door in the foot of a tree. It was blue, with a golden handle. I didn't think I would fit through it. As I pondered how to fold myself in order to get in, all kinds of wondrous cooking smells floated out through the wee key hole. Without further hesitation I leapt up, took hold of the handle and was through the door, before I could notice how.

It was very dark. I stood completely still. All the hairs of my body stood on end.

As I stood, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could make out a rickety wooden staircase going down in the very centre of the tree, deep into the earth, in a beautiful spirally way. I stepped toward the top stair and held the worn-smooth wooden rail in my left hand. The first step creaked, stopping me in fear that I may be heard and thought to be a rogue intruder. As I paused, a voice droned up from below, singing a low lilting chant that drew me down. The deeper I went the lighter it grew. It was the bright orange light of hearth fire and the yellow licking light of many candles.

With each step down, I grew younger. When finally, after what seemed to be forever, I stepped off the last step, to the next floor down, I was a girl of eight. My hair was short and straight and brown, cut in a blunt fringe above my eyebrows. I was wearing my old favourite loose brown corduroy pants and a pale blue crew neck jumper that my mother had knitted. This was not as surprising as who I was about to meet.