… my mom, I mean. And boy, do I love to read her voice again (even though we talk on the phone several times a week – you can only revisit those conversations in your mind – you can’t go back and re-read them and find new and wonderful things, because memories tend to fade.  Writing lasts).

My mother and I are both terrified of snakes.  It’s an atavistic, irrational, overpowering thing.  I remember one time in a drama scene study class, a classmate brought her friend’s pet boa (a wee thing, really) in to play the part of Cleopatra’s asp in her scene.  As she was being critiqued, another classmate played with the critter, letting it crawl around him.  He was sitting several seats away from me, and I tried to stay where I was by sheer force of will and logic.

It’s feet away from you.

It is harmless.

You have nothing to fear.

And suddenly, my mental monologue was interrupted, and I found myself at the other side of the room – as far away from the snake as I could get and not leave the class.  The strength of my will and the force of logic were suddenly swamped by my deep and subconscious need to get away from That Thing.  Okay , said the subconscious, That Thing is dangerous, and if you – Ms. Rational – aren’t going to take care of us, I will. And boing – I was teleported to the other side of the room.

And yet, as much as I fear the things, I don’t hate them.  My being afraid of them isn’t about hate – so I love Mom’s conjuring up a herpetological cocktail party.  I can imagine the snakes, their tails coiled delicately around the stems of wine glasses, giving serious advice to the poor soul who had his leisurely crawl through the grass interrupted rudely by some marauding giant.  And I can imagine that snake’s inner monologue:

It’s feet away from you.

It is harmless.

You have nothing to fear.

And suddenly – he is rearing up and doing his best to imitate one of his dangerous cousins, without even realizing it.  His subconscious takes over, you see.  They do that.