Mushroom Day

                   13
         

Mushroom Day by Gabriel Saul                                                                                

          All through the night Alice kept tossing and turning. She listened to the sounds of the night outside her bedroom window. The old owl down in the barn, the crickets, the frogs by the little pond, the trees swaying in the night wind. Every time she felt she was drifting into sleep, she woke up in a panic and looked at the clock on her bedroom wall. Tonight she did not have the dream about saving the world, or the one about her father coming back. She was terrified of sleeping in and missing Mushroom Day.
         When the cock crowed Alice was already awake. She jumped out of bed, put on the special little red dress with the large pocket sewn on its front, put on her little shoes and went downstairs to the kitchen, knowing that her mother was already up, chopping vegetables and herbs from the garden.
         "Good morning ,mother," Alice said as she walked across the steaming kitchen to the stove where her mother stood. Her mother's long yellow hair was braided into two thick braids and a red handkerchief was tied on her head.
         "Good morning, dear," her mother replied, her face flushed.
          She was stirring a pot which stood on the stove and appeared to be hypnotized by the circular motion of her own hand. Alice watched her for a few minutes. The sound of bubbling water was the only sound filling the wide kitchen. Alice walked to the kitchen table as quietly as she could, fearing she might interfere in her mother's morning ritual, and sat down. She had been sitting at the kitchen table for a few minutes when the sweet smell of burnt porridge reached her nostrils. She glanced at her mother who was stirring the pot mechanically. She noticed the thin steam that was rising from the pot was slowly thickening and becoming white smoke.
         "Can I have some porridge?" she asked her mother louder than usual.
          Her mother jerked her head up from the pot, as if awakened from a trance.
          "Oh, of course you can, dear," she replied, and hastily removed the pot from the stove.
          She took a bowl out of one of the many cabinets, poured some porridge into it, and set the steaming bowl in front of Alice.
         "Thank you, Mommy," Alice said, trying to catch her mother's eyes.
          She watched her mother as she walked back to the stove, and began stirring a large pot. It was a tall pot, and Alice knew her mother seldom used it. It was kept for holidays or family gatherings, when large quantities of food were needed to feed a large number of mouths. Alice swallowed spoon after spoon of the porridge, indifferent to its burnt taste. She watched her mother adding some chopped carrots into the large pot. Her hands were almost invisible in the hot white steam that rose from it as she dropped the carrots into the pot, one after the other. Alice gulped the last spoon of porridge, stood up and took her bowl to the sink. Her mother raised her eyes from the steam and looked at Alice who was washing the bowl and spoon.
         "You're done," she said, giving Alice a faint smile. "Oh," she muttered suddenly, as she watched Alice put the dishes in the dish rack. She rushed to the pantry at the opposite side of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She opened the pantry's door and reached for something on the topmost shelf. She grabbed something, closed the door and rushed back to Alice.
         "Are you ready for your big day?" her mother asked as she handed Alice a large cloth bag with two broad handles. Her family's name was sewn on the bag in large capital letters. Alice remembered watching her brother carry this bag three years ago and her sister two years ago. Now, it was her turn. She could feel the burden the bag carried, but her pride made it lighter.
         "Yes I am, mother!" she replied.
         "You should really have your hair tied up," her mother said. "You don't want it getting all tangled up in branches."
         She grabbed a handkerchief that was hanging by the door and tied Alice's long hair into a ponytail, forming a red bow on top of her head.
         "Thank you mother," Alice said.
          "Go on now, you don't want to be late," her mother said.
         Alice jumped to her feet, clasping the bag in her hands.
         Her mother handed her an apple, kissed her on her forehead and followed her with heavy eyes as she went out the door and past the garden gate. She closed the door behind her with a sigh.
         When she was certain her mother had gone into the house, Alice turned and looked back. She watched the thin smoke coming out of the red brick chimney, disappearing into the clear blue sky. Several pigeons were sitting on the red shingle roof, probably waiting for Alice's mother to come out and feed the chickens. She looked at the little vegetable garden she had spent hours weeding with her sister, at the flower beds her mother loved so much. She looked at the white picket fence that surrounded the house and garden and noticed again the flakes of peeling white paint scattered beneath it. She hugged the cloth bag to her chest, turned around and marched up the stone paved road which led to the school.
          The sun was shining on the smooth, gray cobblestones which paved the road as Alice passed by the apple orchard, and the trees glittered with the morning's dew drops. She noticed a few stray apples, left on the tree to rot for the insects' delight. Some ladies hurried past her, carrying small straw baskets and metal containers, flashing measured smiles as they headed for the fair.
          Alice crossed the little bridge and waved at a lady driving a small horse-drawn wagon .The lady greeted her warmly with her wrinkled, sad eyes. The old horse turned its head to Alice as it passed her, and she patted its black mane. Alice knew the woman's children were all grown up and gone, and for her, she presumed, Mushroom Day probably brought back memories of better days.
         Alice could see the schoolhouse from the stone bridge, its red shingle roof standing bright in contrast to the forest that stretched behind it. The small windows seemed to be on fire as the sunlight reflected in them and blinded Alice's eyes. Some kids were already there, waiting outside in the yard with their bags in hand. Their little figures moving around and their distant chattering reminded her of a flock of birds.
         A distant roar above her made her raise her gaze to the sky. She could make out a small airplane, dark as a crow, making its way somewhere. She narrowed her eyes at it. She blamed the planes for her mother's sadness; for all the townspeople's sadness. She watched as it disappeared in the distance, leaving a thin, white vapor trail behind it. The anger she felt inside changed into hope when she remembered what day it was. It was her big day. She could take everyone's cares away. She could make them happy again.
         She reached the schoolhouse and entered the building with the rest of the children. All of her friends where there, holding their bags proudly, comparing the different names that were embroidered on the bags in various styles and colors. Each bag bore a family name, and the names of the people who had used it on previous Mushroom Days.
          Alice's fellow classmates should have been ecstatic with joy, like generations of children before them. They had finally reached the age in which it was their sole responsibility, on Mushroom Day, to go and pick mushrooms for their mothers' stews. Each mother cooked her own secret mushroom stew, assisted by her son or daughter. Later, at the fair, the town's folk would vote for the best tasting mushroom stew. The winning stew earned the mother and her son or daughter the Mushroom Day trophy to keep in their home for a whole year, and their names were engraved on the trophy along with all the previous winners. Alice's family had never won the trophy before, but Alice did not care. She knew it was a happy day for everyone. Alice's teacher had explained to the class that mushrooms always appeared after the rain. They symbolized new life, fertility and continuity, and that was why Mushroom Day was celebrated. The rain brought change to the town and its surroundings, and the most rapid and obvious change was the mushrooms. Alice knew the mushrooms had the power to determine the town's happiness, especially on Mushroom Day. This was the day when families forgot their worries, feasted on mushroom stew, and hoped for a better future for their town. After Mushroom Day things were always brighter, better, and Alice knew this Mushroom Day would bring peace, if not to the whole world, at least to her small town.
         Today Alice and her classmates were going to venture into the forest, which they seldom visited, and come back with bags full of mushrooms. The forest was not a favorite place for Alice or her friends since it was dense and dark, and they had heard too many stories of the creatures that dwelled in it. But they had prepared much for this occasion. For the past week they had several classes which taught them how to distinguish the different kinds of mushrooms that could be found in the forest. Their teacher showed them detailed drawings and samples she brought, so they could tell which ones were poisonous and which ones were edible.
         "I remember my Mushroom Day," Alice's teacher said, her mind drifting back to better days. Her plump, round cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed as she conjured the memories.
         "It was the first time I had tasted apple cider. My brothers and their friends let me have some just before the winner was announced. I can still remember the men carrying the women onto the midway and breaking into dance." She leaned against the wooden desk which stood in front of the class, and crossed her hands over her stomach.
         "I can still remember when my first boy went into the forest. I remember standing by the kitchen window, waiting for him to return, watching him run down the road carrying that big bag. My little boy," she finished with a deep sigh, her eyes sparkling.
         Alice, as well as the rest of the children, knew that this Mushroom Day was different than any before. The gloom that hung over the little town, which was lurking behind the mountains, waiting to creep into the small valley and drown it with the rest of the world, made the duty of picking the mushrooms feel like an obligation towards the town's happiness.
         As they stood at the edge of the forest, their bags strapped to their chests, they exchanged quick, conspiratory glances, and then, without thinking about the witches, trolls, and wolves they had grown to believe lived in the forest, they darted into the woods like runners off a starting line. Running in couples, threesomes and larger groups, they spread out among the trees, plucked the mushrooms from the moist ground and placed them gently into their cloth bags. After several hours they started coming out of the forest with bags laden with mushrooms. Some bode farewell to their friends while others just hurried solemnly home to present the mushrooms to their waiting mothers. Alice came out last from among the thick dark bushes, alone, holding her full bag and dragging her legs through the grass.
         "Come on now, Alice," her teacher called, "you want your mother to have enough time to cook her mushroom stew don't you?"
         "Yes, Miss," Alice replied and lowered her eyes to the bag that hung on her shoulder.
          The thought of her mother waiting for her in the kitchen made her run.
She ran fast across the little bridge, past the orchard, and up the road which led to her house. She burst into the kitchen, panting and sweating.
         "Dear lord!" her mother cried, rising from a kitchen chair. Her eyes were red and the handkerchief, which was wrapped around her head in the morning, was now in her hand. "You startled me," she said to Alice, smiling.
         Alice handed her mother the bag of mushrooms. Her mother opened the bag and peeked in.
         "What beautiful mushrooms!" she exclaimed and took the bag from Alice.
          She placed it on the kitchen table and turned to Alice.
         "Now run along and wash your face," she said, placing the mushrooms in the sink. "I'll clean and add them to the stew."
         Alice ran up the stairs to her room and took her dress off. She placed it carefully on a chair, the large front pocket facing up like a small bumpy hill. She put on a clean white dress and brushed her hair. She was washing her face when she heard her mother calling her.
         "Alice! Come down stairs and stir the stew, I need to change my clothes as well!"
         Alice grabbed her dirty dress and went downstairs.
         "Just keep stirring it dear, and make sure nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot."
         "Yes mother," Alice answered and grabbed the large wooden spoon from her mother's hand.
         "Go change," she told her mother with a smile,"or we will be late."
         As soon as her mother left the kitchen, Alice emptied the front pocket of her dress into the pot, and then went and put the dirty dress in the laundry basket. She stirred the soup vigilantly, watching the mushrooms swirl in the big pot as bubbles pushed them up to the surface. Alice thought this must be how dead bodies look in the ocean, helpless against the waves.
         When Alice's mother came downstairs she poured the stew into a nice silver pot, and she and Alice carried it outside. They reached the barn that stood behind the house and left the pot standing outside while they dragged a small wooden wagon to the barn's door. Alice waited outside of the barn while her mother went in and came back with Dolores, their old brown mare. Alice's mother hitched the horse to the wagon, and then she and Alice put the large silver pot in the back. They climbed into the wagon, Alice in the back holding the pot and her mother in front, reins in hand. They stopped for a moment in front of the house and Alice ran into the kitchen and came back with a large silver ladle and some plain wooden bowls. They rode into town where the Mushroom Day Fair was already in progress.
         Many wooden stands were situated in rows across the large lawn next to the church. Each stand had its family's name written in bright letters on a sign at the top of it. Behind each stand was a mother and son or daughter, pouring mushroom stew into little bowls and handing them around to people. The town's baker had a stand at the center of the lawn where people purchased small loaves of bread to go along with their stews. Children, accompanied by their grandparents or older siblings were rushing from one family stand to the other, tasting the different stews and taking notes. Some were running around carrying cotton candy, caramelized apples and colorful balloons. Bowls were emptied and filled up again, and compliments mingled with the music which rose from the town's band who played on the midway. Alice's brother and sister met them at the fair after a short school day. Alice and her sister were sharing a ball of white cotton candy on a stick while her brother and mother swiftly put the family stand together.
          Soon enough people started coming to Alice's family stand to try out their stew. Alice's mother was filling up bowl after bowl of stew, while Alice handed out the bowls and collected the empty ones to be filled up again. Many people carried their own bowls from stand to stand, trying as many stews as they could.
         "Delicious!" one lady announced in a loud voice.
         "What is your secret ingredient?" another one asked with a smile.
         More and more people gathered around Alice's family stand. Alice was standing on the side watching peoples' faces as they gorged on the stew. They all had similar features. They all had wrinkles in the corners of their eyes, put there too early by the sound of airplanes and rumors. They all feared what was coming. For years Alice had dreamed of how her Mushroom Day would be like, and this was not what she had expected. Nobody seemed truly happy. But she knew it would all get better. It had to. People cannot worry forever, or stay away for good. She was not sure where her father and many of the other men of the town had gone to, her mother was never clear about it.
          "Probably the same place where the airplanes go to," she thought to herself often.
         Alice looked at her mother who was smiling and talking to a friend. She seemed almost happy for a while. Alice was not sure if she missed Alice's father when she handed out the soup bowls, or whether she thought of her two brothers when the people complimented her. Her mother never spoke of either. Alice wondered if her mother still thought about the future when the first lady clutched her stomach, then an old man, then a child.
         Alice watched them, falling, one by one. Balloons rose up to the sky from twisted, hardening fingers, and wooden stands collapsed under the weight of falling people. Pots were overturned and stew poured on the grass in rivers, leaving behind trails of mushrooms caught between blades of grass.
         Alice thought of the peace they will all find soon, the end to all their worries. No more unclear future, no more waiting for fathers and sons that will never come back. They will no longer need to fear what is coming. She saved them all. She made this the best Mushroom Day of all.
         As her mother fell next to her brother and sister, Alice kneeled down and cried, "You have nothing to fear now. Please stop looking so sad!" Her mother looked at her. For a moment she thought she saw gratitude in her eyes, just before she closed them.
         Alice went to the big pot that sat on her family's stand, and looked into it. She could recognize the small mushrooms she had carried in the front pocket of her dress. She picked up the bronze ladle her mother saved especially for mushroom day, and poured herself a cup. She held the wooden bowl with both her hands and then looked around. She saw all the other children from her class standing amid the chaos, with their bowls in hand. They exchanged silent gazes, nodded simultaneously and brought the bowls to their lips.