Remember how the Matron does this with Scarlett? From yesterday's post?
Night times, when you're finally sleeping---with the soft mouth open and warm breath, the cheek pale and vulnerable against the night, your arms limp over a stuffed animal and even though you are right in front of her, you are so so somewhere else, sort of like life, for all of us--in those still moments, your mama comes in and kisses you good-night, one more time.
Sssssh! Don't tell Stryker, but she does the same with him--and the baby, Merrick. She peeks in for that last look and considers the men they will become, the great psychological and physical distance that will someday separate. That expanse both humbles and grounds.
How does the expanse appear, even now?
Just yesterday --
Matron: "Stryker, what are you thinking?"
Stryker: "Those are my private thoughts and at the moment, I am unwilling to share them."
Yes, on this busy Saturday, the Matron is a wee bit philosophical, thinking how alone we each are in our own minds, what entire universes we create and for what a short, amazing time.
When we die, as Brecht reminds us, it's not as if an actor leaves the stage.
The stage disappears.
The Matron is happy to be allowed onto a corner of three stages, one for each of her children, for awhile.