"How I Kept My Mother Alive" by Tim Liebaert & Joyce de Badts

5:44PM Aug 11, 2019

Speakers:

Keywords:

mother

room

part

prayer

wanted

wet

piece

altruism

gooey stuff

hiding places

pray

animals

chocolate bars

drawers

daily duties

night

tiles

plastic container

count

kcrw

A couple of years ago, dark afternoon, I was watching the cloud sale by through the window. And I decided to wet my pants. Just because I wanted to feel it again, what it was like to cross the line to do what you shouldn't. It was wet and warm. Later it got cold. And then I had to lie down to be able to be loved the type of climate jeans. When I was about eight, I poked in a plastic container from my mother's kitchen, and I buried it afterwards in the garden. Later, I wanted to dig it up to see what happened to it after some time in the ground, but I forgot where I put it, and I never found it back. Around the same time, I used to sneak entire bags of crisps, chocolate bars and biscuits to my room, stuffed as much of it as I could in my mouth and tasted everything carefully swirling the flavors in my mouth and trying to enjoy them. Secretly, guiltily. Then, instead of swallowing the gooey stuff, I spit it out in various hiding places in my room. Tiny drawers of my house, a small jewelry box I got from my grandmother, the pencil case. Next I had a full day of work in front of me. First, I had to count all the tiles in the different rooms. I had to open and close all the doors in the house with both hands. I had to sing a song before to brush my teeth. The same song every night. So commercial. I had to clear my throat in a certain way when I saw a fat person I had to breathe out when I saw an old person and I had to breathe in whenever I saw my mother. Of course, I was busy all the time. I had to break each night to God. I felt deeply but also trusted without a question. The prayer was over always the same. First, I had to ask for world peace and for all children to have all the toys they wanted. He had to know I was not selfish. Next, I prayed for the animals. In this part of my prayer was more genuine. I did care for animals. Finally, after I thought that showed enough altruism allowed myself to pray for my mom that you would live another night. Then I needed to whisper Amen.

Fine, last count. I had to start all over again. It could take hours everybody else in the house to sleep on the counter. Amen. The prayer was the easiest part of my secret life. The daily duties to prevent my mother from dying. She wasn't anything, but neither was my dad did disappear.

One day Lyft and the next he didn't

remember the day my mother discovered the multi pieces of chewed food in the hiding place in my room. She lined up all the boxes and drawers in case next to each other and just looked at me.

And I remember feeling so relieved.

This piece was produced by Tim Liebaert and Joyce de Badts as part of the 24-hour Radio Race from KCRW's Independent Producer Project.