In Loving Memory of Elizabeth Rieb ne. Teseny September 22, 1943 – January 20, 1982
When I was thirteen with a sketch pad in my lap, I could go to a deep place where no one could see me. I drew Ziggy awakening to actionable change; Snoopy leaving the doghouse, shouldering his comforts in a red-and-white sack dangling from a stick over his shoulder; a two-story ranch with a flower garden in front and the back of the house exposed like a dollhouse on the flipside of the page— with a man and two kids inside. No one bothered me when I was quiet and un-wanting behind my closed door. No one cared to, except my mother, an endearing young woman who was a fragile complex of wild nerves and sweet apple pie. She must have felt herself diminishing while pressing her knuckles into the unbaked crust, knowing I was drafting landscapes beyond hers, refining lines she could not cross. With the silent lengthening of time widening the distance between us, she must have felt the inevitable ebb of her own receding, drifting toward a horizon she’d never see.
We bickered over Saturday paper coupon clipping— I wanted to be outdoors with friends— she handed me scissors. She made art of a tight budget, building grocery lists around market sales and coupon clippings. Wednesdays, she’d drive my father to work so we could have the car to shop after school. It drove me crazy chasing discounted ground beef, day-old Italian loaves, and double-and triple-coupon deals in three supermarkets, a flurry of confetti currency flying from a pregnant envelope onto the conveyer belt— removing the Oreo’s and Lucky Charms from the bag because we were $2.30 over her allowance— and finish in time to pick my father up from the Pepsi Cola factory at 5:00 PM.
Sometimes, in the deep cave of mythmaking, I’d hear a wave push through the narrow space beneath the door, crossing the threshold: My mother, calling my given name.
Deborah!
Yes, Mom. I’d shout back, rolling my eyes.
Come set the table for dinner.
Okay, in a minute.
That spring she spent six weeks in a psychiatric hospital, finally receiving a diagnosis and lithium. Soon after, she discovered a lump in her breast. After a radical mastectomy, she added breadcrumbs to the hamburger meat and bought a frozen pie with a triple coupon.
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