Mama's Boy

He was standing very still, looking eastward, as the sun began its morning climb into the sky. He had been wakeful during the night. That was nothing particularly remarkable as there was rarely a night during which he slept soundly, nor was it much of a problem as he could easily nap during the day to make up for any lost nighttime sleep.

The dawning of the day filled him with excitement. Spring had arrived only a few weeks earlier and, in this part of the world – where he lived – the weather could be temperamental. There may be a long, lingering winter, never fully agreeing to leave on time, or spring could arrive as expected according to weather patterns established over centuries. He was very pleased that it seemed winter had grown weary ahead of schedule. It was only the first week of May and, already, it seemed summer was upon the land, though the spring bulbs were just beginning to peak their heads out of the softening dirt.

He was standing at the approximate centre of a rather lush green field, a patchwork pasture of delicate texture and hue, the grass iridescent as the morning whispered its salutation into the earth below him. As the first blinking rays of sunlight tickled his face, he took in a deep, luxurious breath so intensely satisfying that he felt his chest may burst with sheer joy at the day spreading out before him. There wasn’t even a hint of rain in the air. He didn’t mind the rain; in fact, he welcomed it, as it ensured these fields would remain vibrant and their crops continue to grow. Just for today, though, he wanted long, leisurely hours under an azure sky, with huge fluffy white clouds that would form and reform into hundreds of shapes. He liked to believe the clouds were telling stories with their transformations. He would try to read them, the stories, narrating the scenes to himself as he watched from his tiny patch of earth.

He looked about, suddenly remembering he wasn’t alone. He could see the others, in small pockets of two or three, scattered across the field. They were still, making neither sound nor movement. He was glad to have their company from time to time. Their presence always assured him somehow of his safety, that he was not alone. He belonged here, in this field, with them and, though that contented him, he did like his independence when it suited. Within that circle of security, he felt as at one with the earth and sky as he did with the others. It had not always been that way.

He didn’t remember much about his earliest days, other than he knew he was carefree and cared for. His mother was, he was convinced, the best ever. She was always with him, he thought. His first memory was of her lying by his side, him nestling into her shoulder. He had come to realize the ferocity of her love. She wanted to keep him to herself, to protect him from even a hint of harm, and never welcomed those she didn’t know and trust to come too near. He knew that, by her side, nothing could harm him. And, so, he could learn about and absorb the world around him secure in her love, in her devotion.

And, she was a beauty, through and through. No one could deny that. He had heard exclamations about his mother’s glorious appearance from more people than he could count. Remembering her now, her magnificence silhouetted against the evening sky, he could feel the blood quicken within his veins. His heart was full of her. She was truly his world then, and he hers. She was called Charlotte by others but, to him, she was Mama, and that was the name he yet carried within the very depths of himself. That was the best name of all.

When had he seen her last? The separation had been so sudden, so unexpected that he hadn’t had the time to register the fact that she was being taken. When he came to understand that she had disappeared, he was terrified. Being with Mama, no matter how big the world or how scary to him those they encountered, he trusted her – body and soul – with keeping him safe. When she first was removed from him, he was, more than anything, confused. But his trepidation had not given way to panic, just then, as he was certain she would return. Of course she would. She belonged with him, cared for his every need and, of course, she would never abandon their love and connection. And, when it happened, it had been moments before his feeding time, their singularly special togetherness that bonded them impenetrably.

When she didn’t return for his feeding time, he was confused and, though he was a bit worried, he knew Mama would be with him soon. Mama was his and they simply couldn’t be apart. She had taught him that, through her gentle ministrations and with the tender gaze she saved only for him. She was his shield from the elements, from the others, from whatever happened in those parts of the world that weren’t just there with them. He knew Mama would be proud of him for being so brave and sensible during her absence, and he became excited at the thought of how she would praise and reward him for his courage. But, mostly, he knew she would commend his trust, the immutable confidence he had in her, and in their tiny family.

When she hadn’t returned after three feeding times had passed, he could feel something strange in his belly, and his throat felt funny. Despite his fear of the person, he knew he needed food, like Mama said, to grow. And, so, he accepted his meals from a strange, hard and somewhat scary thing the person held for him. This stranger holding the strange thing, trying to force it into his tiny, soft mouth made him want to run as fast as he could to look for his mother. And, so, he did.

“Mama, Mama,” he called, as he pulled himself from the person’s grasp and away from that hideous thing he came to learn was called a bottle. His tiny legs were still unsteady and he took a tumble that propelled him onto his back. The shock of such physical imbalance and the pain it caused were both things totally unfamiliar to him. He’d never been hurt in any way. The closest he’d known to any sort of touch were Mama’s gentle nudges, coaxing and directing him to where she could make him comfortable. He felt shock at tumbling because it was something that had never happened before, much like the feeling he had when his Mama was first taken.

And, now, she still had not come back. That shock, he knew, was much worse – though different – than the one he was feeling now. In his limited knowledge and experience of the world, he had little ability to compare, but he knew the two affected him differently. The shock of falling had resulted in some pain to his body, and a bit of consternation at how it had come to pass. The shock of his mother’s sudden absence, though not physically painful, was so very much worse. She was his world and she was gone. That shock waylaid his senses and cut him to some part within him he hadn’t known was there. It hurt much more than did the physical pain.

All these things he thought through as he was steadying himself back up to find Mama. He began a clumsy attempt at running, and calling as loudly as he could, “Mama, Mama, where are you? I’m here, Mama. I’m here.” At that point he realized he could run no further, at least not that way. Something was blocking his path and he had no idea how to get around it. Maybe Mama was on the other side of it and was just waiting for him there. Maybe it was a joke, though that was not something Mama had ever tried with him. Maybe this was a lesson he had to learn now that he was getting to be a big boy (well, a bigger boy). Yes, that must be it, he reasoned. It was the only thing at which his juvenile brain could grasp as explanation. And, if Mama was teaching him an important lesson, he wanted to learn perfectly, and demonstrate what a good teacher she was. He was like that. Doing things not for him, but to prove his love for her.

The person who had foisted the bottle on him was watching from the other end of the room, seemingly entertained by the goings-on and how the little tyke was reacting to the situation and absence of his mother. They all reacted much the same way, the person thought, when they first discovered they were alone. He couldn’t read their minds, nor could they explain their thought processes, but this time, this test, or whatever it was to them, would see some give up the search when they realized it was impossible, and become passive; others would recognize the futility fairly quickly, and calm down, resigned to whatever might come next. But a very few, like the boy now, were tough and determined not to give up.

He walked the length of the blockade that prevented his going further. There was no way around it but, he wondered, if it were possible to get over it. It didn’t reach all the way to the top, the thing he’d heard was called ‘ceiling’, and Mama had often told him how strong his legs were and how fast he would be able to run when he grew even just a little bit taller.

Standing near the impediment, he tried to jump, believing that alone would result in his sailing overtop. His nose smashed into the wall and, again, he felt that physical shock followed by pain. He stood back farther and thought. He tried to remember how he saw his Mama get to things high above her. The mental picture was achingly accurate, and he had to hold back his sadness to think clearly. After a few seconds, he landed on what he believed the only possibility, the only approach that might work. He walked back, farther again and, with a fierce and determined look on his tiny perfect face, set off at the fastest run he could muster. Nearing the blockade, continuing apace, he mentally primed his calves for the jump. As he was nearly upon the wall, he leaped upward, like a rocket poised for takeoff. It took every bit of physical energy and strength he had, and he felt lighter than air as he rose up facing toward the obstacle. His jump was spectacular, especially in one so young and wholly untrained. But it failed to meet the absolute degree of spectacularity such a feat required. Were he to have succeeded in clearing the blockade, he would have needed a foot more. That was obvious, even to him.

He collapsed upon the floor, tired, sore, adrift among sensations never known to him previously. He was scared, he felt lost; he needed his Mama and he felt his heart may burst open his chest from sheer exertion but, moreso, because of the deep indescribable emptiness he felt within it. He couldn’t believe his Mama would desert him, but he was beginning to wonder about the person trying to feed him with that thing that in no way resembled the way Mama would gently move his mouth to the best spot. Surely the two things were related. The timing was impeccable. And, sadly, feeling the first small fires of anxiety that lead to worry, he felt himself overcome with emotion, with sadness and futility and a somber sense of foreboding, had he known that sentiment. He didn’t know what he could do, how else to go about finding Mama. Perhaps the test had beaten him, something that would embarrass him as it might make Mama think him a failure.

MAMA! WHERE WAS SHE? She would be looking for him, maybe crying because she thought HE had abandoned HER. More and more he realized this person - this wall, everything that now seemed to be a new world to him - could understand it all. And could explain it. He thought of trying to ask but, then, remembered Mama telling him not to pay attention to those people, to stay away. And so he lay upon the ground, allowing his little body to feel everything it needed to feel to, maybe, give him the plan he needed. But he was tired from all his effort and expended energy, and emotion. And hungry. The thought of the hard thing with the rubbery top was most unpleasant, but it gave him his meal and he didn’t want to miss another feeding. That was Mama’s guidance too. He remembered her telling him, very early on that, to be big and strong and fast, he must always take food when offered. He closed his eyes, picturing Mama standing right there when he opened them. His picture of her, the one he drew in his mind, was exact. It was Mama at her most gentle and soothing, Mama standing proudly beside him, showing him off, all the while keeping him well-protected from the others. The soft dewy songs Mama whispered in his ear so he could go to sleep with beautiful visions of him and Mama danced through his head. And his favorite memory of her: standing in silhouette against the sky, her beautiful long, raven locks blowing behind her whenever a wisp of wind intruded.

“NO!” he called out, so loudly he surprised himself. “NO, I can’t give up. He got off the floor and, taking a moment to remember exactly how he had proceeded in his last unsuccessful assault, managed to summon even more adrenaline and determination. He didn’t wait this time but, instead, lunged and leaped and missed the top by only a few inches. He slumped back onto the floor and, this time, began to cry. He knew that wasn’t something a big boy usually did but he didn’t care. To his own surprise, he started to call, call loudly, to yell and even shriek at the top of his lungs, over and over, “Mama, I’m here. Mama, come for me. Mama, where are you? Mama I need you. Mama, I’m scared. Mama, please come back!” Then one, final nearly blood-curdling, “MAMA!”

He never saw Mama again.

After Mama had gone, he was fraught with fear and suspicion whenever anyone approached. The bottle the person offered him made the great loss he had suffered all the more difficult as he felt he would choke every time he sucked from it. It was cold and hard and, even though the person seemed kind and encouraging, he thought he would drown, if not from choking on his meal, then from the tears that rose from deep within him when he remembered the warmth of Mama’s presence.

It seemed a very long time, but had been only a few days, when he heard a strange voice calling from outside. Someone nearby his bed responded and, for a bit, the two voices - one unknown and one somewhat familiar – continued speaking, as the first voice drew closer to him. He peered through the opening just by his nose and realized the two were heading towards him. In a heartbeat, his tiny body froze and he felt the mounting terror that had taken him when he couldn’t find Mama. He wanted to scream for help, for escape, for whatever would keep him safe from the people who were now directly above him, watching him as he shrank inwardly and tried to make himself smaller in hopes they would move away.

But they stood, sometimes looking at him, sometimes at each other. They talked, one of them pointing at him occasionally, while the other smiled and nodded. His initial terror abated somewhat as the tone of their conversation remained calm and genial. When he dared a longer glance, he saw the new person looking directly into his eyes. She – he later learned this was ‘she’ – reached out and tried to touch his head, but he quickly moved back out of reach. Undiscouraged, she persisted and, when he continued to elude her touch, suddenly they were inside his enclosure, preventing any hope of escape.

How he wanted to run as fast as he had seen Mama when they were outside in the fields. Her strong legs, flashing against the sun as he tried to catch her, now danced in his mind’s eyes, mesmerizing him…just long enough to distract him from the perceived threat. Before he’d regained his thoughts, she had one hand on his back, the other on his head. He wanted to recoil, but he was frozen. She was speaking now, to him, and her voice was soft, her words slow as her hands held him gently in place.

As the moments passed, and it seemed he was not immediately in danger, he felt a tentative ripple of relaxation. Her touch was light on his back and under his chin where her fingers tickled him in very spot Mama had found would make him laugh. He heard her say something to the other person, the one who had been giving him his meals. She bent down to his face, and her arms encircled his neck. He felt her face in his hair as she gave him a tiny squeeze.

It wasn’t the same as Mama’s embrace, but he enjoyed the closeness and the warmth that seemed to pass from the person to him.

She straightened up, laughed at something the other person said, then walked away into the other room. As he tried to sort through this confusion, the two returned. Before he realized what was happening, she was taking him away from the only home he’d ever known.

He was feeling unwell, his entire body engulfed with something akin to the choking feeling that his bottle feedings caused. When the person had first taken him to this new enclosure, it seemed all hope was lost. The terror he had felt on losing Mama returned, along with the confusion of that horrific experience. It was dark in this new place, and the air felt oppressive. He longed suddenly for his old home, even without Mama. It, at least, had been familiar, and he’d been fed regularly. He tried to look around in the dim light, in hopes of making some sense of where he now was.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw that he was in a box, completely trapped. There was no sky above, nor could he see the lush green fields that had always rolled out to welcome him. Only a faint glimmer of sunlight crept in through a small opening near the top of the box. He could smell so many things, all unfamiliar and none pleasant. His tiny chest heaved as his heart pounded, and he felt the sweat of fear begin to break on his neck.

Again he heard the voices. Were they talking about him? What was happening? He recognized the softer voice as that of the person who had placed her hands gently on his shoulder. She hadn’t seemed like someone who would hurt him, but he knew nothing about any of them, these people who came after Mama disappeared.

His slender legs began to shake as he felt movement to the front of him.

Noise. Loud. Strange. Terrifying. He felt the floor beneath him leap and sway, and watched as his feet slid away from below him, pinning him against the side of the box that held him. The next thought he allowed to penetrate his consciousness was that he was moving. He felt it surely and, yet, there he remained, trembling and unable to regain his foothold in the box.

What light staggered into the small space above had grown darker when next he ventured to look up. Perhaps this was nighttime and he had dreamed it all?

A sudden jolt in the box was accompanied by yet another unfamiliar sound that continued until the movement stopped. The confusion he had felt, the exhaustion that had nearly overcome him, the grief from Mama’s disappearance all suddenly abated. In their stead, he felt the full onslaught of frenzy. Frantically, he began to bang on the walls of the box, tried leaping upward toward the light. He screamed for release, he called again and again for Mama. He thought his tiny body might explode from the terror wrought by so many sensations.

Mama would tell him to fight. No matter what, he must fight. He would not let Mama down. Carefully, so as not to lose his balance, he straightened his wobbly legs and steeled himself for what would happen next.

“Here we are, loveen,” the soft voice soothed as the box suddenly opened. “Oh, my poor wee pet, you’re drenched in sweat, and shaking. Are you cold or just terrified?”

He didn’t understand the words, but felt enveloped by their gentleness.

The person climbed in beside him, rubbing his back and shoulders with a cloth. He was wary, but it felt good and he warmed to the touch. Then he dared a look out at the strange surroundings, shrouded, as they were, in the dim light.

He heard her call to someone. “Come help with the ramp. This boy needs fresh air and grass under his feet.”

She returned and, with the other person, pulled something over to the box.

He felt a slight tug under his chin and, immediately, snapped his head back, not knowing what it meant.

“It’s OK, wee man,” she said, scratching under his chin. “You’re safe. Come out and see your new world.”

Should he trust? He was unsure but he was so thirsty, so hungry and tired, his only hope was that doing as she asked would help him feel better. He put one tentative foot onto the ramp, watching her reaction and hoping it remained gentle.

“That’s it. What a brave boy.” She was smiling at him, trying to help him through his fear.

Seconds later, they were standing on grass. He could smell it, and felt the welcome softness underfoot. She took his chin in her hands and smiled at him with teary eyes.

“Come on, Clancy boy, “she said. “Come see your world and new best friend.”

He followed her tug, this time filled with curiosity instead of fear. She led him through a gate, closed it behind them, and stopped.

“Look here, Raven,” he heard her say. “Here’s the wee orphaned man I told you about.”

Before he could make out exactly what was before him, he heard a low voice, familiar and yet not.

The black mare nickered and took a few steps toward him. She stopped, gently throwing her head from side to side, her thick, long mane a luxurious wave. Raven spoke again, and he took a few tentative steps forward. She closed the gap between them and, as if he were her own, nuzzled her soft nose into the spot where Mama had caressed him.

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t understand any of it. But he knew he was welcome.

He heard the name again. ‘Clancy’.

“Clancy, this is our Raven. Now she’s your Raven, and she’ll be a wonderful new mum to you.”

“MUM.” He thought it was a sound like ‘Mama’.

Raven nickered deep into his shoulder, nudging him back along her side.

Seconds later, the black and white colt was ravenously sucking from this Mummy.

He didn’t understand. But he knew this was home.