To The Wild Ends Of Borealis

To The Wild Ends Of Borealis          
                     
     Samantha looks out from the glass bubble of the observation deck at the plains of tundra grass that undulate in the wind. Ripples of youthful grass roll like windblown wheat tassels in the pelagic land sea. She could be a farm wife looking out the kitchen window at the Great Plains in an animated Monet painting.  Sam aims her sphere to the blue skies overhead blessed by the gentle flow of colors with blissful vibes of total peace. She sits in serene contemplation of the pageant of nature.  
     With a flick of her finger, she opens the doorway to direct experience of nature’s pageant. She emerges from her transparent beach ball into the fragrant summer air.  She gazes at the shore of the bay whose round rocks rattle when the wind grows strong. For several minutes she imbibes the maritime scents of the salty breeze along with the algae that clings to the rock-strewn beach. She watches the currents play far off where the stones give way to the sandy beach that welcomes sunbathers in this newly minted Arctic. She is reluctant to leave this paradise of the mind.  
     The vision of the sky, water, and grass entrances her. Her gaze brings her to a place of deep serenity.  
     She stands on the rise in the land for a parting view. The gentle cycling of the breeze on the grass sings beauty deep in her heart. Finally, she trades her expansive view of this sanctuary of the soul for the insular world of her colony as lingering eddies of peace ripple through her heart.  
      Samantha gasps. “Look at what showed up on the perimeter surveillance camera.”  
     Jim replies, “That car may be armed to the teeth.”  
     Sam says, “Does that look like a tank to you?”  
     Jim replies, “Though we are pacifists, I’ll carry some heat just in case they are a Trojan horse.”  
     Sam says, “You won’t need that.” She snatches it from him and drops it into a handy tropical fish tank.  
     Samantha puts on her valet parking hat and runs to the couple using hand signals to guide them to the lot.  
     Jim follows her saying, “The roadsters will have to be properly vetted. We can’t let terrorists plant cells in our corridors.”  
     Sam yells back, “Jim, your paranoid. Don’t put fear in our hearts. Let these people through and stop fretting.”  
     Jim replies, “My colt 45 will never fire another bullet since you sunk it in the fishbowl.”  
     Sam says, “If a shot was ever made with that gun I’d be very disappointed.”  
     “It was an antique from my great grandfather. Over a hundred years old.”  
     “Guns are antiquated and belong in a museum. After you unload it, you can put it out in the sun to dry. Then hang it on the wall like the artifact it is.”  
     Jim approaches the “Looks like a couple of hobos wanting to share our cornucopia. Of course, we’ve reached the capacity for our self-sustaining community.”  
     Sam has a heart of gold and says, “Don’t you think we have room for two more people?”  
     Jim says, “Well we have a surplus of vegetable protein this year. That is the predicted trend. Let’s go meet them and get a feel for what kind of folks they are. We don’t want a couple of scallywags with emotional problems draining the one and the only counselor we depend on for those in distress.”  
     Sam replies, “Instead of wild speculation let’s be the welcoming committee.”  
     Jim joins Sam outside the protective bubble of their world and meets the travelers face to face. Samantha screams, “Yahoo! Mom you told the truth. I’m not due for another month. You got here just in time.”  
     Rowena steps out of the solar jeep and hugs her daughter. Ro says, “Thank God that GPS has been restored or we’d have never found you. Lift your blouse and let me feel that little tike’s heartbeat.” She places her hand on Sam’s stomach. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were close. That heartbeat is strong as a drum.”  
     Sam asks, “What made you change your mind and come up north?”  
     Rowena replies, “There were fuel and food shortages everywhere. It got to the point that there was not much we could do. And John and I are getting old. We became more a liability on the reclamation project than an asset. It was time to head home.”  
     Samantha says, “You called our community home and you’ve never been here before. But of course, you are home. Please follow us into the hothouse.”  
     John says, “You people have made more progress with growing things than we have in all our years down south. But we didn’t have these greenhouses.”  
     Jim says, “Our community has been very successful with limited resources. But don’t spread it around because we are kind of at the limit of our population. We don’t want a Malthusian effect.”  
     John replies, “The last thing Rowena or I would want to do would be to overload the resources of your happy home.”  
     Jim replies, “Actually growth is good for us within reason.”  
     Samantha says, “And we aren’t about to turn away our biological and adoptive parents respectively.”  
     Rowena says, “I know your place isn’t a retirement center for old fogeys like us. With the rise in life expectancies to be expected here with the cornucopia of food you aren’t in the business of being a nursing home.”  
     Samantha replies, “Oh, Mom, please quit worrying about being a burden. We revere our elders here as sources of guidance and wisdom for our kids. In fact, studies show that children do better with their grandparents as well as vice-versa.”  
     John says, “We eat light, two meals a day and can easily handle your hydroponics gardening duties.”  
     Jim replies, “Then you are even better poised to join our community. With your maturity and work ethic, you will be valued members of our village.”  
     John says, “To paraphrase a former president we will ask not what your ashram can do for us but rather what we can do for your ashram.”  
     Samantha says, “You know since you and Mom brought me into the world and provided me shelter, food, and love growing up it is only fair that I give back. When you reach a ripe old age you can lean on me without guilt. If it came down to it I would gladly share my food rations with you both.”  
     Rowena says, “You could send us out into the ice to perish as the Inuits did in ancient times.”  
     Samantha says, “Mom! We don’t do that here. Our food production is big enough to feed all of us including our elderly. Please don’t ever suggest such  
abhorrent measures be used.”  
     Rowena replies, “My culinary skills could be put to use immediately if you lead me to the kitchen.”  
     Samantha says, “It must be the excitement but my boy is kicking or maybe I’m going into labor.”  
     Jim tells Sam, “You had a couple more weeks to deliver but these things aren’t always on time.”  
     Sam says, “I’d say the timing was perfect given my parents are here.” Samantha is carted away on a stretcher to the delivery room with her parents and me anxiously in tow. After a flawless birth, Sam and Ro take turns holding the boy. Samantha says, “He isn’t crying. Maybe he will be the next Dalai Lama.”    
     Jim replies, “Or perhaps he will be a simple Buddhist angel like a Bodhisattva who puts off entering nirvana to help others on earth attain enlightenment.”  
     Rowena says, “Give him to Grandma and let me talk him out of your plans for his monastic life. I want to be a great-grandma.”  
     The lesson of how to be a mother was never on the curriculum in Samantha’s life as a horticulturist. There was no textbook that could prepare her when her first child came.  
     When she rocks his cradle her college education leaves her in a fog. Soon enough her boy sheds his Buddha serenity for the mewling of a normal baby.       
     One morning she carries him along the water’s edge. She sees three puffins perched on a tall rock. Then there are three tundra swans floating in a tide pool. The signs are there that change has come. Her life as a mother has become wonderfully complicated with this new addition to the household. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.  
     On that day, across Hudson Bay, there is a strange formation of clouds. It is a mighty localized thunderstorm passing quickly. It consists of a large grey flat-topped cumulous cloud. Below it everything is grey mist with columns of rain stretching down.  
     It is moving swiftly, slightly inland from Peary’s rocks to their left. The storm makes its way out to sea. Bright yellow lightning bolts trace their way among the columns of rain in the mist.  
     As the storm passes it is so far away nothing is heard except the constant breaking of the waves. The storm heads out to sea and begins to disintegrate. The columns of rain become jagged and less thick. The cloud appears to spread out into light grey mist and the sun comes out like dawn.  
     She lifts him up to the sun where his haloed pate is a sign of what births can bring.