A Bend in the Fence

Children's' laughter wafts into our postage stamp living room. Lucy's loneliness has strengthened her perception and she immediately sniffs out the voices of children. Running for her easy on pink cow girl boots I assess that I too will have some part in braving the cold snap and following the laughter of a child. Clad in cotton P.J. bottoms and morning hair at 3 a.m. Lucy's little "hello" reaches none of the joy coming from the garden which I have a small glimpse of, due to a bowing stretch of fence. Our landlord's negligence to prop up their privacy has left a wedge, our necks outstretched to the possibility that our thorny bit of yard cannot offer. Hello I beg to to them. A friendly child and his Aunt come over and offer up the names and ages of the children and promise to pass on our plea to the mother of the house. Days later, still in the cotton P.J. bottoms with so many hours still left in the day to entertain a four year old, someone rings our flat. I know not a single person in the whole of this country, was that a buzz to our house? Did Tyler come home mid day for some strange reason? With Lucy at my feet we open the door to no greater gift then we could have asked for. Her name was Micci and she was not an Angel. With bits of spit up on her woolen button up and arms filled with two young children she was glowing with everything a mom finds comforting in a fellow mom. She came in without reservation or judgmental glances of our nominal flat or my cotton bottoms! Plopping on my sofa she opened her mouth to all my unanswered Momma questions about life here. I had been scouring the internet which can be a mothers best friend. You can find anything you need, right there at home, without dragging kids all over town to find out dates, times, locations, health advice etc.! But the familiar woes of a motherhood spoken face to face, while almost rhythmically interrupted by offspring, far out weights the cyber chat groups or thousands spent on therapy. And the beautiful part about motherhood is that it's a universal language. While on the tube last week a young Indian boy struggles to free himself from his stroller, fussing and carrying on. I send a familiar glance to his mother, it speaks louder then words. Words which she might not understand, or hear as the tube is packed with people. In my single glance I assure her that I am not judging her, that I too have been in her position and offered up my bit of empathy. As mothers we need the support from other mothers more then anything. Micci left my flat that day leaving me an open invitation to come next door for tea. And I sprung to life with hope, after days of second guessing our whole move to London. She and I became fast friends, speaking mainly the language of motherhood. She would later help me get Lucy in school, let me borrow everything in her house that would n't fit in my suitcase and offer friendship to me and my family. And that day I learned a lesson. Not that I didn't practice mother to mother kindness faithfully, but I learned the profound effect it can have on the mother, her children and even her Husband. "If Momma aint' happy, ain't nobody happy"