My mother was a child of the Iron Curtain who became a woman of the Cold War. It wasn’t Ellis Island that greeted her into the land of the free but Lady Liberty herself, and every new immigrant on her flight waved back.

She, like many Russian immigrants, embraced her new country and its culture as she navigated the difficulties of learning a new language, managing tyranny of the low-paying jobs, and the strange reactions of people to her behaviors that once felt natural. But no amount of hardship and everyday challenge could tame her zest for life, curiosity about her new homeland, and a developed affection for all things Disney. And over the years, a visit to Walt Disney World became an experience she yearned for.

One year, as Mom’s big birthday was coming, my husband, David, and I fulfilled her wish with a surprise trip to Disney. We waited as long as we could, but the threat of Mom making her own plans for her birthday was too great. It couldn’t be a surprise. “Just keep it between us, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, a little too readily.

The next day my aunt called.                     

Responding to her question I said, “Because she’s been wanting to go so badly and for so long. We decided it was a perfect present. Try to keep it quite though.” I called to David in the other room, “I think it started already.”

My cousin called later that day. “So…I hear you’re taking your Mom to Disney?”  Next was my uncle, then Mom’s friends, then the Russian pharmacist.

After hours of this I said to David, “This is like working at a call center!” “Does the whole of South Florida know that we are taking my mom to Disney? I told her explicitly not to tell anyone, yet.” I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“Of course she told everyone! Your mother could not be quite about something that made her so happy. And you know how the Russian grape vine works.” David’s sober analysis wasn’t enough this time.

“But with everyone? It’s only been one day!”

He hugged me. “The important thing is that she is looking forward to her birthday gift, and you get to spend more time with her.”

When the day finally arrived we planned to stop everywhere, packing the day full of adventure. But we spent the entire day at the Magic Kingdom, and didn’t realize it was evening until we saw the sky darken and street lights blink awake. With an hour before the Main Street Electrical Parade, we decided to hit the stores.

The Emporium, the largest gift and souvenir shop in Magic Kingdom, boasted a particularly impressive variety of high-quality merchandise. Its shelves groaned under the weight of all the glass, ceramics and housewares, and its five feet panoramic displays opulent with apparel, accessories, gifts, toys and plush peppered the store like giant pieces on a chessboard floor. Mom made her pilgrimage between these monstrances looking with veneration at the contents.

In one area of the store rose a reliquary of Disney souvenirs, including the Mickey and Minnie wedding cake topper and a Cinderella’s castle beckoning visitors from a dessert tower styled stand. Mom’s eyes widened when she spotted a heavy ornament at the middle of the central tier. It depicted all four areas of Disneyworld and was topped by a three-and-a-half-inch snow globe in which a smiling Mickey received acclaim after conducting Fantasia. For a moment she stood in admiration; then she pulled out her wallet, reverently lifted the bauble, and bore it faithfully with both hands as we continued through the store.

We wove through crowds of squealing, running kids, their parents and grandparents, and plush toys haphazardly strewn as we made our way through the store.

Suddenly there arose before us a veritable amphitheater of plush Mickey and Minnie figurines in every size a person could want. Mom’s gaze settled upon a classic 25-inch plush red Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Her eyes sparkled and a dreamy smile came across her face. She reached out, looked at the price tag, and her expression darkened. She checked her wallet again, only to shake her head and sigh. Seeing this, David asked her, “Do you like them, Mama?”

“I love them! But it’s too much. I’m already getting the globe.”  

While Mom waited in the purchase line, David and I exchanged glances and I knew we had the same idea.

After she checked out he said, “Time to go, Mama! We need to get a good spot before others take it!”  She bobbed her head and followed us outside.

Crowds lined Main Street in anticipation of the Electrical Parade and we guided Mom through the throng hugging the space around the store to the front.

The lights dimmed and the crowds cheered. A moment later, music rose as the first vehicle of the cavalcade rolled leisurely along the street, Tinker Bell greeted us with cheerful waving. All of the famous figures that followed moved slowly forward in their own floats. Mom’s eyes sparkled above a contented smile.

“Mom, we are going inside the store to use the restroom. We’ll be back soon.”  She nodded, her eyes still on the parade.

David and I darted into the store as everyone was watching the spectacle. Our checkout was quick, and we rejoined Mom, carrying two large plastic bags in our hands. Normally she would have wanted to know what they held, but she had been transported.

That night at the time-share, we managed to get her away from her room long enough to sneak the contents of one of the big shopping bags into her room.

“Mama,” David called.

“Aha,” she responded, looking at us expectantly.

“Mom, David needs an extra pillow or two. He can’t sleep with just the two. Can you check to see if you have any?”

She nodded and disappeared into her bedroom. Silence. Then, the sound of gentle rummaging and crinkling from inside her room. We looked at each other, but said nothing. After what felt like 30 minutes, she came out holding a plump pillow in her outstretched arms. “How about this one?” she asked, her face all concentration.

We looked at each other again.

“No, this one is too thick for me,” David said.

“Okay,” she responded with a preoccupied look and went back into her room. She came out a few minutes later, this time holding two smaller pillows in her arms.

“What about these?”

David gravely shook his head. “No, these are too flat.”

Mom’s face began to show real worry. “Let me see if I have anything else.”

She came out several minutes later, holding a queen size pillow.

“What about this one? This is one of my pillows, one of the best ones. It’s very comfortable.”

A look darted between us, and our faces started twitching.

“No Mama, this is no good. See if you have anything else.”

Clearly befuddled and now seriously alarmed, she went back into her room.

We started snorting in our effort to suppress laughter. We giggled silently, our entire bodies shaking. Finally, my mom emerged again and held out a perfect pillow.

“This is my best one. I looked over the entire room, including the closet. This is all I have. I don’t have anything else. Take it. It’s very comfortable.”  Despair was clear on her face.

We couldn’t hold it anymore. We burst out laughing, unrestrained tears streaming down our faces.

“What? What’s wrong? Why are you laughing? I thought you needed a comfortable pillow.”

David bent over slapping his thigh. I was sliding off the edge of the couch, holding my side with my hands.

“What?” she asked.

We both pointed at her bedroom, unable to speak.

“Mama…” David wheezed.

I managed to get out, “go inside…” before laughter overtook me again.

“Mama, go look inside your bedroom,” David managed to say in between his laughs, “Look on top of the bed!” 

“I did! I don’t have any other pillows. I showed you all I have!”

“Forget the pillows!” we both exclaimed, “Just go inside the room and look at your bed!”

Mom gave us a puzzled look but went back into her room. A moment later, we heard a jubilant exclamation. She finally saw the Mickey and Minnie from the Emporium that she had looked at so longingly. She came out, her hands palm-to-palm in front of her heart. “I love them, I love them! Just what I wanted! But when did you get them? And when did you put them into my room?”

David and I glanced at one another and smiled.

“How could you not see them? They were right there, against the pillows,” we said almost simultaneously.

“I was trying to find a pillow for David. I was focused on the pillows, so I kept looking for something that would work for him.”

We both laughed again, and this time she laughed with us.

Several days after we had returned home, I went to visit Mom. The Mickey and Minnie sat altared on the chest next to her bed, their faces smiling and greeting — just like the matching pair in David’s and my bedroom at home.

– Alexandra Bergheim

Note: This piece was originally published in HOWL’s Volume 9 (Spring 2024) release.