Dance of the Four Mothers

There’s a collage hanging in The Mayor and The Rooster’s room that I made around the time I was getting a divorce from my first husband.

In it, there are five women standing on a plain white background.

The first four women have mermaid tails but the fifth woman is standing up on two legs with her mermaid tail thrown over her arm like a shawl.

Each figure in the collage represents one of the women in a family photo showing the five generations of women alive when I was born – from my Great, Great Grandmother right down the line to me.

My Great, Great Grandmother lived to be 100 years old.

In her lifetime, she saw transportation shift from a horse and buggy to a rocket to the moon.

In the collage, one of her hands holds a whole solar system and the other holds the ripples from a single drop of water in a still pond.

I used to sit by her bedside at the end of her life listening to her stories and trying to absorb the wisdom of her experience.

My Great Grandmother appears next in the collage.

Her picture is made from photos of farm land and her hands hold plant roots and Earth.

She was a dairy farmer’s wife and she was beyond kind.

Her legacy was one of hard work and love.

The next figure is my Granny.

Her hair is made of stones illustrating the stubbornness that I inherited from her.

Her hands hold framed photos – one of a pregnant woman and one of five women dancing together.

Granny was the one to ground me in my family, to help me understand that I am made of all those that came before me.

My mother is next, holding a clock and a fist.

She was the first woman in her family to earn a graduate degree and lead a successful career in the business world.

Finally, comes the figure that represents me, the one holding her mermaid tail.

I was twenty eight years old, childless and getting a divorce when I made this piece.

My foremothers all had children between the ages of seventeen and nineteen.

I understood that if I ever remarried and had a daughter, there wouldn’t be four generations of women alive to greet her.

My holding the mermaid tail was supposed to symbolize the divergent path my life was taking.

It turned out that when The Rooster was born, there were three generations there – my granny, my mother and me.

We recently lost my Granny so now it's just my mother and me.

Still...

Though I struggle with faith, I have always believed that my grandmothers watch over me.

They are my guardian angels and they are always with me.

The remind me of who I am and where I came from.

They help me find my center when I lose my balance.

When The Rooster woke up this morning she called to me and I sat on the edge of her bed.

I have never talked to her about the collage, but this morning she pointed up at it and said,

“My angels!”

I beamed.

“That’s right, Roo. That’s exactly who they are.”