Another overcast morning. The birds were in full-voice before 5AM and I was awake to enjoy the chorus. Now at 6:45 they are all quiet. I guess they were trying hard to raise the sun.
Klinkenborg referred to his farm as "a few bony acres." While Mary O "was walking the field in the fatness of spring."
One day Cedar said, "Gramma, when I get to be an old woman can we still be friends?" "Yes, we will always be friends." I find her words so dear. It is more than an expression of love and loyalty. It is the voice of longing. That we will always be together.
I dreamed about Mom again! She was here in #8. When I came from bedroom to living room I found her unpacking a box of items wrapped in white tissue. She held up a very nice mouse puppet. It was the kind that fits over the hand like a glove. "Oh, it's a lovely puppet but I don't work anymore," I told her. "Nonsense," she scoffed, " we will soon have many programs. Our calendar will be full. Now put her on the shelf with the others." When I turned in the direction she indicated I found a shelf of hand puppets. There was a small pale mouse which I replaced with the rich plush brown one Mom had given me. I took the discarded mouse to the closet and put him in the toy bin. Just then I felt an itch on my abdomen and found I was hosting a wood tick. I removed the pest, stepped to the kitchen and dropped him into the sink. Before I could turn on the water about 30 black bugs came out of the drain. They attacked the wood tick and tore him to pieces. Then they carried his body parts down the drain. I felt someone looking over my shoulder and turned to find Justice, his eyes wide with surprise, his face pale with horror. I left him there and went to rejoin my mother. She was gone but the box was there so I removed 3 more puppets from the tissue. When I turned to put them on the shelf they dissolved into the air and I was awake.
Klinkenborg referred to his farm as "a few bony acres." While Mary O "was walking the field in the fatness of spring."
One day Cedar said, "Gramma, when I get to be an old woman can we still be friends?" "Yes, we will always be friends." I find her words so dear. It is more than an expression of love and loyalty. It is the voice of longing. That we will always be together.
I dreamed about Mom again! She was here in #8. When I came from bedroom to living room I found her unpacking a box of items wrapped in white tissue. She held up a very nice mouse puppet. It was the kind that fits over the hand like a glove. "Oh, it's a lovely puppet but I don't work anymore," I told her. "Nonsense," she scoffed, " we will soon have many programs. Our calendar will be full. Now put her on the shelf with the others." When I turned in the direction she indicated I found a shelf of hand puppets. There was a small pale mouse which I replaced with the rich plush brown one Mom had given me. I took the discarded mouse to the closet and put him in the toy bin. Just then I felt an itch on my abdomen and found I was hosting a wood tick. I removed the pest, stepped to the kitchen and dropped him into the sink. Before I could turn on the water about 30 black bugs came out of the drain. They attacked the wood tick and tore him to pieces. Then they carried his body parts down the drain. I felt someone looking over my shoulder and turned to find Justice, his eyes wide with surprise, his face pale with horror. I left him there and went to rejoin my mother. She was gone but the box was there so I removed 3 more puppets from the tissue. When I turned to put them on the shelf they dissolved into the air and I was awake.
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