A gift from a friend. Words from a mother long since left this world still lingering on a faded piece of paper. Her name, in red ink, spelled wrong, not corrected.
I cannot tell you how often I have taken it out of its sweet little carrying case. Opened it up to write a note, tell a tale.
Every time I am struck. Struck by this longing to add my name to the page. Connect myself to this woman who I love simply from the stories I have heard and the ground I know we both have touched. Type my name, that is all.
State that I am here. Bare my imperfections as simply as adding an extra "e" to the end of my name.
I can read you over and over. Whew.
ReplyDelete