I want my Mother! I was disasterizing my bedroom closet in an attempt to make my room less jam-packed and more pleasant, and I ran across one of her journals. She had been given so many beautiful ones, but mostly she wrote on whatever lined paper was handy. Here is part of her entry from June 29, 1999. It made me cry for missing her so.
My feet are bare and I’m standing in a small patch of soft dirt that feels so warm and good. I’m watching a “snake” lizard sunning himself on a large piece of firewood, and thinking.
I’m thinking about that little girl I was so long ago with the loose black hair flying in the wind and running barefoot in the hot dirt.
She had a quick laugh and a too loud voice. But outside in the Summertime running barefoot it seems to me now she felt wild & free & very very happy.
Is she still here someplace deep inside? Of course she is. Why would I ever let her go?