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-memories-

December 1, 2012

12/1/2012

when you woke us up before

the sun had risen,

packing away the Farmer’s Market goodies-

cakes, cookies, and even a dress i

made perfectly for Barbie-

the amazing buildings you

created for our dolls

from cardboard-

the way you sang us to sleep-

how i never want to hear anybody

else sing “you are my sunshine”, ever-

how you read to us,

and encouraged me to write-

and trained sister’s lark-like voice-

suddenly…

the anger

the failed protection attempts…

the violence…

the torture…

the hospital visit when i couldn’t visit you-

were you going to die?

not this time-

there were more catering jobs to be done,

more pasta to be made;

we sat and watched while it came spinning from

the machine that gripped to our

kitchen table-

there were more trips to the Farmer’s Market,

a lady bought the dress i’d made for Barbie,

and even complimented

my shoddy workmanship-

i got stung by a yellow-jacket, and survived-

however more memories there are,

each of them are clouded by pain,

distorted by suffering-

causing me to miss you violently-

perhaps another time,

Mother-

neither of us are going anywhere-

but if i do,

perhaps i shall meet you in the

Afterlife…

-freya

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