Bubbles and Reflections: My Mother’s Voice

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I’m soaking in the bath when my mother’s voice drifts into my consciousness. “Wake up! Wake up!”

It envelops my mind, as delicate and fragrant as smoke wafting from a pot of Jasmine tea.

Hold on. That voice—it isn’t emanating from within me, is it? After all, she’s in spirit now. It feels as if her words have clung to every possible molecule, ferrying her message to my consciousness.

Could I be… possessed?

I don’t even have to articulate the thought. She’s already heard it.

“The ones we love may depart this world,” she murmurs, “but their voices linger, etched into our subconscious. And for the record, you’re not possessed. You’ve merely inherited the gift of deep listening.”

“Oh,” is all I manage. What else can I say? This is sooo beyond my thinking mind.

“Wake up, Louise,” she urges.

“I’m awake,” I mutter, though it’s not convincing given it’s the ungodly hour of 6 a.m.

“Not physically,” she corrects. “I’m referring to the sole of your soul’s core. Truly awaken.”

Her clever play on words surprises me. In life, English wasn’t her first language, and witty remarks were not her style.

But I’m digressing. A frequent occurrence when my mother decides to pop in during my baths. I always add extra bubbles for privacy, though she’s often reminded me she can see straight through them—and me.

“I don’t need to see through you anymore, Louise.” Again, she’s ahead of me, anticipating every thought.

Can’t I just have one peaceful soak?

“I’m not merely dropping by, Louise. My spirit has journeyed into the Great Mystery, and now I’ve become the maternal voice deep within you. The nurturing presence you’ve always longed for. The mother I couldn’t be back then.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m not here to complicate things,” she reassures. “Yes, I caught that ‘about time’ thought. But I’ve returned for a different reason.”

I play my part, inquiring, “Why?”

“To prevent you from drifting aimlessly, mistaking mere existence for a fulfilled life.”

Her depth overwhelms me, rendering me silent.

“Your silence is of no consequence, Louise. I perceive even the words you withhold.”

Ugh. As if a rogue thought critter wasn’t enough, now I have my mother tramping through my subconscious?

I could really use a breather.

“You don’t need a break, Louise.” I brace myself for a parental cliché, but she catches me off guard.

“You need a psychic hug.”

Intrigued, I venture, “What’s a psychic hug?”

“It’s a surrendering. Letting go of the constant quest for answers and finding solace in the questions.”

“You’ve been reading Rilke?” I joke, half-serious. Has she been stomping through my bookshelves?

Her laughter is delicate, like chimes. “I haven’t. I just understand what you’ve yet to embrace. I sense your desires, dreams, even those you’ve yet to acknowledge. I’m here to guide you in navigating the unknown.”

“But what if I’m not ready for that?”

“I know you are.”

And just like that, she fades. Leaving me amidst bubbles and reflections.

The end?

Or perhaps, just the beginning?

9 thoughts on “Bubbles and Reflections: My Mother’s Voice”

  2. Oh boy, Louise, dear Louise! Between your dog and your mum mingle with your daily life, you really haven’t got much of a breather…. But my mum too just hops into my thinking, just like that, unasked for and – dare i say it – mingling with MY life. I don’t like it as much as you seem to do, but I see what it is. I also don’t take baths, I shower – no bubbles, just water and a bit of soap…. Maybe your mum would intrude less if you took showers?! 😉

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    • LOL — re showers — I love baths because they truly are a meditative (and usually peaceful) time for me. 🙂 I love that your mom hops into your thinking – my mother and I are having a much better relationship in her spirit life than we ever did in real life! 🙂 ❤

      Hugs dear Kiki.

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  3. Elgie,

    My immediate reaction to your piece – loved the typos! – is that this is a stub, maybe at the beginning, maybe in the ending … of a one-woman play; I see you on stage dressed entirely in black and barefoot – and when you switch to your mother’s character you don a beret and flat shoes so the audience knows who is speaking

    tell the story of your relationship with your mother

    or maybe set your speaking from the tub

    not the relationship you had in life, but the one you have after her death

    my two cents,

    Mark

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    • p.s. to that … a title for the play could be ‘Tale from the Tub’ – maybe have two modes for you – walking around all in black vs. sitting in a massive white robe next to a clawfooted deep white tub that moves from front to back between scenes … and maybe the last scene has you donning headset and climbing into the tub – nudity optional of course – and given your relationship with your sister, a phone sitting on that chair; already it seems like a Fringe Festival play to me

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    • Haha — those typos were a subset of slow responses with WP this morning! Ugh. 🙂

      And I LOVE your idea. I’m off to Ireland for 10 days at the beginning of Ireland and was planning on spending my time walking and writing. Hmmm…. this might just be the ‘kick in the writer’s pants’ I needed. Not to mention the idea I can work on while I’m savouring misty Irish mornings and walks along the west coast!

      Thanks Mark!

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