One woman's quest to remember her mother and find herself. I am who I am, in very large part, because I am my mother's daughter. But she never wrote down her stories like I wished she had. So, this is where I will tell my stories before it's too late.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

I Know Just How You Feel, Kid

The other day in the store I heard a little bitty kid crying, "I want my mommy." That hot-faced, snot-faced, limp body sort of cry that four year olds do best. I cried like that a lot in the months after Mom died. And now when I'm walking in a store and I hear a little bitty kid crying, "I want my mommy," I go all woozy and achy and tired and think, "I know just how you feel, kid."

posted by Karin at 12:52 AM

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