Peter Gabriel - No Self Control
This little bit of silence between words... how I enjoy it so much. Nothing else can compare to this. Something about silence... it is as just as it has been ever since. There's a kind of peacefulness and organization in silence that can't be found anywhere else. And then, comes the spoon hitting porcelain, again and again. Good thing is that the tea is still warm. Warm, tasteful, delicious, hmmm... flavored? Magnificent. Yes, that's the word.
— ...I don't know what happens when you give a child enough sugar. – I said to Moominmamma, who stood quiet in an almost meditative way. – Sugar ain't good. Not when you are taking care of well-educated children, I mean.
Why must silence be broken? I wonder. If it won't be broken by me, so will be by the grass. What, grass growing underneath the table? Don't be silly, Mrs. Fillyjonk, though you might check out if there are any anthills under the table, under the bed. Nothing good comes out of anthills at home. They eat too much sugar. Like children.
— Children and sugar do not mix, but I know they deserve the best. – I said, before taking a sip of tea. Then I continued. – And the best I have to offer is a balance between effort and reward. Study enough and you may earn a candy, I say. I do not say 'candy' in front of them, but instead, I call it by, uh... reward. Yes, reward! Candy is one of the many rewards I give to my children, to make them study and behave well when they really do.
Soon they'll learn that there are more rewards than sugar poured on their mouths. Yes, they'll do. More than sugar. And what kids do not learn with books, they learn on the streets. Streets are no place for discipline and etiquette and... open roads. Outside the blurred window, there are open roads. You can walk from here to there, a hundred miles away, take a look at the clouds, at the skies, at the…Sun.
…
''...My, don't stare at the sun! I told you to not stare at it!''
''But mom! Sunny days are so beautiful.''
''Beautiful? Stare at the Lady of the Cold. She's beautiful, and will freeze you to death if you notice her beauty. Just like the sun. It'll melt your precious eyes if you stare at it for so long.''
''Melt? My eyes are going to melt?''
''No, darling. They won't. But would you like to be blind? At your age?''
''It's so dark, mom. Like home.''
''At home you're safe, my child.''
''But I like it here. The garden, the tree, the clouds... the sun? Where is everything?''
''The sun is like any fire. It's beautiful, warm, but if you come closer, it might burn you. Burn your eyes.''
''My eyes? The sun that lights the flowers burned my eyes?''
''Now you can't see anything, tell what's beautiful or not. Do you like the darkness?''
''No! I don't. I don't like home. It's scary, it's dark, so scary... It's all dark, mom!''
''It won't be dark forever. You won't be blind, of course not.''
''Soon it'll be dark. I'll miss a sunny day...''
''Darling... there'll always be sunny days, as long as I am with you.''
…
A long time ago, a very young Fillyjonk stared at the sun too much. She almost got her eyes burnt, and ever since she has been living in the shadows. I wonder what happened to that little darling child. She would dare ask questions to older people that did not understand how her flowery mind worked.
"If a single piece of sunflower dropped on my tea, would it taste awful?" Maybe Moominmamma, or one of her children, has the answer. Not that I want to ask her anything. Anything like this. It's irrelevant. Words are well appreciated together with a well appreciated silence. Too much silence, for a house supposed to be filled with children. Too much gray and dullness for a mother to bare.
— Listen... I'm not the kind of person that invites anyone. Not without a reason. – I said, as I stared at Moominmamma with accusing eyes. – Don't trust in strangers, I say to myself and my children. Well, ever since I came to Moominvalley, the Moomins are no more strange to me. Strange as a way of saying, eh…
…
''...What's that? Oh, my dear! Tretta! What have you done!?''
''Oh, hi momma!''
''There's dirt everywhere! Your clothes are dirty! The carpet... my carpet! Why, you... explain yourself, missy!''
''The moomins have a tree in the living room, momma.''
''Trees do not grow in living rooms.''
''But the Moomins!...''
''Yes, the Moomins. Think they are the best for having a tree in the living room, huh? But you see, my dear... trees grow out of seeds. And you can't just scatter dirt around and expect a plant to grow out of nothing. Understand?''
''Uh huh. Momma, how do you grow a tree?''
''Oh, that's easy. All you have to do is find a seed, and dig a hole.''
''Can I dig a hole in the living room?''
''No, you can't. Go outside. No, wait. They can't look at my child... to you dear, not like that. Beneath all this filth you are so... so... Oh, I forgot the word.''
''Radiant?''
''Yes. Radiant. I'd say effulgent, splendid, coruscating... Well, enough of that. You'll be taking a bath.''
''But momma, I don't like baths!''
''You asked for it.''
…
I remember the day my dear Tretta decided to fill this entire house with plants. She would never dare to do such a thing, had it not been due to external influences.
— You know. Yes, you do. That's why I called you here today, Moominmamma... to say, confirm and agree that the Moomins are a bad influence for my children.
I'm so upset. I have a reason to. A very good reason. Tea is good to calm my nerves. So much good. Life has so much good to offer. Well, let's not forget the bad. There are many bad things, I'll tell you.
— .Where was I? Oh, I never drank a whole bottle of maple syrup in my life. Yes, a whole bottle! Could you believe it? As I went away from home, one of my kids went to the kitchen, crawled to the upper cabinet, opened it and found a bottle of sweet maple syrup. One of my kids, did I say? Sorry, but no. Of course not! The three of them worked together to get that bottle! Etta, Votta and the little Tretta. Look at the size of that bottle! There should have been enough syrup for the whole winter, but you see, it's empty. Empty! I can't stay away from home because these kinds of things just happen. And I blame the Moomins with reason!
— …Cold. – Moominmamma said, a single word came after my long list of complaints.
— It's best served cold, so your tongue does not burn. – I said, taking another sip of the tea. I bet the Moomins could ever do something as elegant and superb as this tea.
— Not the tea. I mean you. – Moominmamma frowned at me. She looks so terrifying it's ridiculous. – I do not believe my kids are a bad influence to your kids, Mrs. Fillyjonk.
— But I do, Moominmamma. My children never did this kind of thing before they met your... kind.
— Kids are kids, and you should know better because we all were children once.
— I remember being a very polite and educated Fillyjonk in my youth. – I said, with a sorrowful tone belonging to a tragedy play. – I had respect for my parents and the words they said. When I was told to not do something, I would not even dare thinking about doing it at all. In my family, I was the example of a model child. I inspire the youth of my time in how to behave well in front of others.
— How can you be so sure? – Moominmamma asked. – The past you're so proud of was not yesterday.
— I was the best artist in the neighborhood! – After hearing her words, I promptly left the table to show Moomimamma one of my masterpieces, hanging on the wall, and I don't mean the pristine cleanliness of my porcelain dish collection. – I painted this when I was five.
— A bunch of fruits? – Instead of praising my work, Moomimmamma looked at it as if it was an ordinary painting.
— It's called dead nature! – I said, furious and with a burning passion towards my creation. – Notice the contrast between light and darkness, each of the fruits symbolic in nature, representing the frailty of life before death.
— For me it's just a bunch of fruits, and they look pretty delicious. – Said Moominmamma, offering looks of ingenuity.
— You don't understand art, As much as you don't understand how to take care of children. – I said, in a provoking and refined tone. – My children are the best, but those little darlings are too young to comprehend they got corrupted by the likes of families such as the Moomins. They look at you and your oddities and they proceed to do the same things you deem as 'normal' that are questionable, doubtful, controversial to the likes of a Fillyjonk family.
— Nobody is perfect. – Moominmamma replied in a serious voice. – Kids do not need to be influenced in order to make a big mess, it's what they do best with themselves. And, to be honest, I think your children need to play around a little more.
Hmmm... The Moomins are weird, they enjoy doing the unusual. What happened today was very unusual, the kind of thing a Moomin would do, right? Oh well, I'm not even sure, yet I have no one to blame. No one but myself. Was it really my fault? What have I done wrong?
— I better check how my dear children are doing. They've been too quiet, not that I do not mind.
Yes, I admit, I hate silence. This kind of silence is louder than words. As I go upstairs, Moominmamma follows me too. She seems worried as I do.
— Momma... – I hear my children. Which one said that? They all look the same when sick. I'm listening to their tummies, hearing groans out a creature. "Frog on the throat", heard that sentence a lot, but that's impossible.
— My tummy hurts, mom. – Said Etta, shuddering with pain.
— Indeed, it should hurt. – Was it me who said that? Did I speak out loud? Oh my… Why am I touching their chins if they haven't got a fever? Everytime I see them covered in blankets and shivering and whimpering, fever comes to mind. With the lots of sugar they ate, for sure they'll have fever dreams when night comes. They deserve it.
— Sorry, mom. – Said Tretta. Sorry? Are you sorry? Doing this with me, the one who brought you to this mean world...
— There won't be dinner. – I said. Do they hear me? They hear with their stomachs… They eat sugar when I'm out. They eat and eat and eat and disobey me and I get so disappointed it hurts.
— But mom-
— No dinner! You! Ungrateful! Little! BRATS!... Think it was easy to take care of you after your father left? Was it easy? Of course not! I broke my back several times so I could give you a good life. I gave you a good home, a good education, a good meal and that's how you answer all this gratitude and hospitality? By disobeying your mother, breaking your mother's heart...
Every inch of my body trembles, like an earthquake. Earthquake? Oh, that's just me, boiling, melting in a cauldron of hatred…
— ...And don't look at me like this. It won't work. There won't be dinner, and that's it!
Hatred? For my kids? The frightened look in each of their eyes... it's something I'll never forget. Tretta was so scared, I... I'll never, ever forgive myself. Will you, Moominmamma?
— Weren't you a bit harsh with your children, Mrs. Fillyjonk? – A bit harsh? A bit!? I wasn't even trying to. Was that me who said such things? Gosh, I can't believe it, did I slam the door? Or were my words that loud? Oh my...
— My apologies. I... I should have been more polite. Really sorry.
— It's fine. I've been through the same pressure as you do, Mrs. Fillyjonk.
— You mean... Have you... shouted at your own kids? Those little pretty things that you've been holding with such care and... love? Shout at them? – I must admit the Moomins have their own problems too. I have my own problems. I love my children, they love me, no one loves me…
Yes, not even the Moomins are perfect. But... shout? I feel so, so... I'd have to improve a lot to say I feel bad. I…
— ...Moominmamma? – Between chewing nails and bad thoughts, I was able to say something. Yuck!... Chewing nails isn't as disgusting as yelling… Yelling at children…
— Yes?
— Can you do something for me?... Could you... could you call a doctor to heal my children, please?
— A doctor?
— Yes… Please. – Does Moominmamma trust me? How does she feel after I… I… yelled. Yelled at the kids, what a sin. They're sick, in bed, I made them feel worse…
— Alright. I will find a doctor for your kids.
— Thank you, Moominmamma… Thank you. – When did everything become cold? Is it Winter? The Lady of Cold is approaching.
— Uh, Mrs. Fillyjonk? Will you follow me?
— No. I must stay. To take care of the house, and the kids... – Yes, stay. With the kids... after, eh, saying... those... those things. Those awful things.
I yelled at them. What if I made them even more sick? How can I even look at their faces after that? I shouldn't have yelled at them. They might have done something bad, but I did worse. Way worse... can't even think right. I wasn't thinking right...