30/365 Harriet
When my stepmother’s mother had singing waitresses surprise me with a cake, joydrops spilled from my eyes for the first time, showing me what love looks like. Today I’d wish leukemia never stole her. At seven, selfishly, I wished only to keep that cake.
posted by - Christine at 10:00 AM
5 Comments:
I've been a stepdaughter and a stepmother, and now I'm a stepmother's mother. I hadn't thought this was much of a role, but I see the possibilities. Thank you.
"joydrops" I love that. I suppose at seven, you're not expecting people to be stolen away. Cake, however... This is lovely
She was a lovely woman.
I wrote six versions of "Harriet," that all pretty much centered on that day. That very moment. It's a page that has stayed near the surface of my memory scrapbook - in a first kiss kind of way.
When they were about to cut the cake I begged could we get something else for dessert. I wanted to take it home and have it forever. It was the first evidence I found that I was loved by someone with absolutely no "genetic pressure" to do so.
I got to take home the leftovers! And this memory.
What a memory to have
(and share with us) Thanks, LOVE "joydrops"... that is a perfect way to describe it.
to be loved by someone in that way is a gift ... thanks for sharing this slice (<---sorry, couldn't help myself) with us.
joydrops - I miss those!
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