Mama Day

Miranda thinks to herself: “The past was gone, just as gone as it could be. And only God could change the future. That leaves the rest of us with today, and we mess that up enough as it is. Leave things be, let ‘em go their natural course” (233). At first glance, Miranda seems to think of the past as something that cannot be changed is very logical and practical. However, try as she might to move on from the past, Miranda is constantly reminded of her family history, including the death of her sister, Peace. Despite her understanding of the movement of time, even she seems unable to completely escape her past, reiterating the novel’s theme that our history becomes a permanent part of who we are.

The inescapability of one’s past also holds true for characters committed to progress, like George. Despite George’s insistence on living in the “now” and clinging to the motto “Only the present has potential,” he becomes increasingly entranced by Cocoa’s family history, to the point where the two often fight about it (40). In fact, it becomes clear that George is actually envious of Cocoa’s rich history and regretful that his own past is not nearly as colorful. Both Miranda and George grapple with this inevitable tendency to dwell on the past even as they see the irrationality of doing so.

Naylor continues to develop the character of Ruby as a malevolent foil to Miranda. She is frequently described as a “mountain” of a woman: “The smoke clears on the silent figure, staring up at the porch from the gate. A mountain. Huge and still” (263). The narrator later even calls her a “god” (272). These metaphors add to Ruby’s own mythic persona: she is intimidating both in terms of her physical presence and her supernatural power. But whereas Miranda uses her powers to help others, Ruby is consumed by her own jealousy. Rather than giving, as Miranda does, Ruby wants to keep. This manifests in extreme jealousy and possessiveness, which have caused residents of Willow Springs to worry that Ruby is “close to losing her mind” (273). By juxtaposing Miranda and Ruby, two characters each with her own brand of powers, Naylor builds suspense for what the reader feels must be an inevitable and symbolic confrontation between the two women.

These pages also build upon Naylor’s exploration of what is natural and should therefore be left alone. The narrator explains, “Time is a funny thing…The clocks and calendars we had designed were incredibly crude attempts to order our reality…All of those numbers were reassuring, but they were hardly real” (265). Here, the narrator argues that the human effort to clearly demarcate the concept of time through such manmade creations as clocks and calendars is ultimately arbitrary and unnatural. Ultimately, time does not seem to apply to Willow Springs. It remains a liminal place: “Living in […] Willow Springs, it’s sorta easy to forget about time. Guess ‘cause the biggest thing it does is to bring about change and nothing much changes here but the seasons” (269). Willow Springs is a place where time stands still or moves forward of its own accord, which readers see as the story jumps around chronologically in this section. The flexibility of time also adds to the setting; it stands in stark contrast to the novel’s other major setting, New York City, where “time is money” and people are dedicated to busy routines. However, even though about five years passes in this section, it seems not much has changed in the small town. Willow Spring’s liminality—its in-betweenness—sets it apart as a location with its own supernatural potential.