DANDELION EUPHORIA

a memoir of a motherless child

Cassandra Anne

Chapter One 

A mother is a child’s first home. A hypnotist once explained to me that the subconscious is created from ages zero to eight. These were the very years I was with my mother, Janel. 

Mom was a quiet, petite, five-foot-two, thirty-year-old housewife with a rocker chick vibe. Her style icons were Nancy Wilson from Heart or Joan Jett, she had loved the latter’s hair so much she had once brought a photo of her to a hairstylist to duplicate. Although it was frowned upon in her Finnish Apostolic Lutheran Church she dyed her hair bright blonde to match mine because she wasn’t happy with her dirty blonde shade. We became big and small images of each other. She had long bangs and I had the bangs she chose for me, straight across my eyebrows. Whenever we would go somewhere people would remark on how much we looked alike. 

We had planned on entering into a mother/daughter lookalike contest once because we were told we looked like twins nearly every day. My shy mother who hated having her photo taken was willing to go onstage with me because she was so sure we would win the one thousand dollar cash prize. Unfortunately my father messed it up by keeping the car away too long on one of the few days a month he would be home from working on the road as a long-haul truck driver. Since my six-year-old brother Shane was born in 1986 Dad was always away for weeks at at time and Mom would become both parents to us.

Friday, June 26th, 1992 was a sticky summer day in Glascow, Kentucky and Mom, Shane and I were out running errands. I crawled into the pillowy royal blue seat of our family’s new grey 1981 Cadillac DeVille never imagining it would be the last time.

My family had just moved into our first two-story house from our single-wide trailer in Escanaba, Michigan: Dad had finally got Mom the white house and picket fence she had always wanted. He was on the road again so it was back to the trio of us and I was promoted back up to the front passenger’s side seat next to Mom. I always looked up at her face for instructions on what to do about the radio by watching her expressions. I was a few weeks away from turning nine-years-old and I was an expert at reading her moods. She didn’t say much but her face told you everything. I could always tell if she liked a song or not. Sometimes I had to reach in to her black hole of a giant purse nearly the size of my three-foot-tall little brother to find a tape she wanted to hear.

Mom stopped by the post office first to drop off letters to her sisters then we drove to the local IGA to do some grocery shopping. We walked into the air conditioned store with signs of relief, I looked over at Mom who was guiding her right hand along the store walls while holding on to Shane’s hand with the other until she reached a shopping cart. She reached down to lift Shane up into the cart’s seat. I thought maybe the bright sun was messing with her eyes. We continued down the first aisle past the fruit to the bread section. Mom reached down to grab a loaf of generic white bread from the shelf, turned around and slammed her body hard into the side of the shopping cart. The bread flew from her hands onto the floor with a fluffy splat.

“Mom, why are you being so silly?” I laughed as I reached down for the bread.

“Cassandra, I can’t see.”

I stopped laughing when I looked up at her face. I hadn’t seen this look on Mom before, her eyes were farrowed in worry but with a sad blank stare in her eyes, her mouth in a growing frown. Her posture began to curl into itself. My strong healthy mother had a new look of vulnerability and she seemed childlike in an instant.

She rubbed her eyes which had shifted to a blank lightless stare. Mom reached down until she felt the side of the cart then moved her hand around the cold metal until she touched the soft white blonde hair on Shane’s head. She moved herself to the front of his cart seat so his little “feeties” as we called them dangled in front of her stomach.

“Cassandra, I’m going to hold onto the cart. We only need to find butter and milk then we’ll leave. Pull on the front of the cart and direct us to the refrigerated section.” 

Shane looked up to search her face for recognition in her eyes. There was none.

A hot, electric heat entered the center of my chest and spread throughout my limbs causing me to start to tremble softly. It was a new feeling to me, confusion mixed with frenzied fear. 

“Ok, are you ready?” I said in a shaky voice while my small hand reached behind me to curl my fingers around the cold front of the nearly empty cart.

“Yes,” she gave Shane a weak smile that didn’t reach her empty eyes.

The music playing on the store’s speakers dulled into a silent hum while I silently pulled us down the aisle to the dairy section with only my four-foot-five kid strength. “Get the cheapest butter and a half gallon of milk,” Mom whispered behind me. 

I did as I was told then went back to them to guide us out of there, I was too young to be anything but scared but I thought this was a mistake, something temporary. I slowly turned the corner guiding Shane and Mom behind me until we got to the checkout at the front of the store. When our train of fear reached the cashier, I saw the woman’s face grow in confusion as we approached. “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling great right now. I have a five dollar bill, will that be enough?” Mom said while I reached up to place the bread, milk and butter on the counter.

The cashier looked down at me and tried to force a smile before looking up to tap on the register keys until the change door popped open with its familiar jingle, “Of course, it’s fine. Here’s your change.”

Mom reached her hand out three feet away from the cashier’s waiting hand and hit some signage next to the register. I started to feel embarrassed so I reached up to take the change instead before taking the coins and placing it in Mom’s trembling hand.

“Thank you,” Mom and I echoed to the cashier before I guided us outside towards the DeVille.

As soon as the sun touched our faces I turned to look at Mom. The lines around her eyes morphed from annoyed anger to constricted lines of anguish and uncertainty. The lines stretched over to my own face, a smaller copycat version of her own.

“Mom, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

Her frown grew when she realized not even the bright sun could reach her eyes,“I don’t know what’s wrong, I can’t see a thing. Everything is black. We need to get to the hospital,” 

“How? Can you drive? Should I?” 

“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I need you to direct me. Tell me where to turn and when there’s cars around. Do you see any blue signs with a big H on them?”

I looked around until I spotted one down the street behind us. “Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

Mom lifted Shane from the shopping cart and I guided them both into the car holding my mother’s back before opening the grey doors for them, the hot metal door handle blazed in my hand. I let go to reach for Mom’s hand and I held it as I walked her to the driver’s seat while Shane crawled up into the backseat behind her. I gently shut their doors after I made sure they were all the way in. 

“Seat-beats,” Mom said softly as I walked around to my spot in the front seat next to her crawling into the soft seats until my feet barely touched the car floor. 

I looked up at her, then took my hand to reach up and wave it in front of her face. She didn’t notice. I kept hoping she was playing some cruel prank but her posture and vacant expression only made it horrifyingly real.

A nervous wreck, I became Mom’s eyes as I looked around for the Blue H signs and told her when to turn when there was a stop sign or a car in front of us, “Ok, now turn right. There’s no cars. Ok, now turn left. There’s a car turning ahead….” It went on, no radio and silence from Shane.

Once we got to the hospital, I walked her inside between Mom and Shane holding both of their hands through the tall white pillars surrounding the hospital doors.

I sat Shane down in the waiting room and Mom said, “Shane, stay right there. Cassandra is going to take me to over there but she’ll be right back.” Hand in hand, I walked her to the counter which I could barely see over, guiding her hand so she knew where it started. 

“Go sit with your brother,” Mom said while a nurse started to ask her what was wrong. The nurse came around the counter and walked Mom into a room holding her hand with another guiding her by the shoulders.

I sat there with Shane waiting. With every minute that passed I longed to see her again and for her to tell me everything would be okay. 

After about an hour I saw Mom come around the corner in a wheelchair, slumped more over herself but the look of confusion and uncertainty had turned into something different. Like the fight in her had drained away in that hour. She had gone from looking like a lost little girl to a worried older woman. I felt like I had to take care her but I didn’t know how. I wasn’t ready to take the same leap in time she had taken in that anguished hour.

Because my dad was away and the only people we knew in town were our landlords, the hospital had reached our landlady. Landlady came to drive us home. She looked down at me with a similar forced smile that didn’t reach her eyes; something was wrong but she tried to remain positive as we left the hospital and went back to the house to wait for Mom to get done with whatever tests they needed to do. 

I wondered if my mother would ever be able to see again. All of a sudden I longed for her to brush my hair and pick out an outfit for me. How could she do that with no sight? Who would feed and drive us to school? Would I have to start cleaning the house? She was our protector. Who was going to protect us now? Although Mom didn’t vocalize it very often I could see in her eyes that she loved me. I needed her to show me how to exist in the world. 

Mom didn’t say much when she came home that night. She could see again but it wasn’t like before. Her sight started to come and go and one eye would float away from focus. She tried her best to act normal but losing her sight rattled her usual resilience and she started to hide in her room.

I had been very excited because it was the first time in my eight years of life I had my own room and didn’t have to share one with Shane. We had a whole floor to ourselves with a playroom in the middle. I ran in circles on the sky-blue carpet: I couldn’t wait to dance around in all that space. Mom had time to hit one more garage sale before we left Escanaba and she had come back with a surprise for me: a gold baroque mirror with “Hi” spelled out in scotch tape on the bottom left. She told me it was for my dancing. This was huge for us. I felt like she was finally embracing the fact that I loved to dance. Dance was also frowned upon in her church so she had resisted it for years.

Dad helped me hook up my first big girl stereo before he left. No more mini boombox for me. I had finally gotten a cassette copy of George Michael’s Listen Without Prejudice Vol 1 that I had been wanting since watching the Freedom ‘90 video so many times on MTV. Mom and I had argued whether or not George was in the video. She was correct; he wasn’t. I opened up the tape deck and put the cassette in place before shutting the cassette door and pressing the “Play” button. Praying for Time blasted out of the speakers in a sonic boom.

I had totally forgotten that Shane and I were supposed to go stay with our aunt Debbie in Westmoreland, NY for a few weeks. Dad was going to take us up to New York in his semi-truck while Mom stayed behind and got settled in the house. All of our things were still in packed in boxes.

Mom had to remind me, “We’ve had this planned since April. You were so excited about it! You can’t let Debbie down.”

“But Mom, I don’t know if I should go now that you’re not feeling well. Don’t you need me to help you? What if your eyes stop working again?”

“Don’t worry about that, I want you to have a good time. It’s almost your birthday. Besides, I need to unpack.”

“Did you find out what happened to your eyes?”

“We are waiting for some test results. It’s grown-up stuff. Now, go pack your bag.”

Dad arrived shortly after but disappeared into the bedroom with Mom. I tried to spy on their conversations but I found it to be impossible. 

“Go upstairs!” She’d say when she’d see me peeking around the corner. I gave up and retreated to my stereo trying to drown my worries in music. I had developed this way after having to drown out fights I heard between my parents. I didn’t want to hear anymore yelling.

The next day, Shane and I loaded up in the truck. I wanted so badly for Mom to come with us even if it was just for the ride. I didn’t want her there alone with the possibility that her eyes could fail her again. I didn’t understand why Dad was okay with leaving her behind.

“Are you sure you can’t come?” I pleaded to her.

“No, I told you, I need to unpack these boxes. I need some alone time.”

Mom was stubborn and I knew better than to push things with her. I climbed up the dirty metal semi-truck stairs into the front right seat after Shane had climbed up and into the back. I looked out the huge truck windshield at my beautiful mother studying her figure and blonde hair longing for her to be in the front seat instead. She looked back at me with a constrained smile, “Have fun, be good!”

This didn’t feel fun. Something was wrong and they weren’t telling me because I was a kid. I knew better. 

The last memory I have of the Mom I knew waved goodbye to me as Dad’s semi-truck backed out of our long driveway. Her fading eyes told me life was never going to be the same.