Lainie
Lainie, the middle of the three girls, was quieter than the other two, both perceptive and enigmatic–and with an air of self-sufficiency. When she spent time with me, I never had to make any special arrangements or go out of my way to entertain her. She liked hanging out with me and was more than content to tag along when I went to the dry cleaner or picked up a few groceries.
Sometimes the two of us spent an entire evening sitting in separate chairs, reading our separate books, barely talking to each other but always connected. What she wanted was the experience of normal, everyday life with me in it. Nothing special. A few times she called me “Mom,” in a small, hopeful whisper that nearly broke my heart.
whose child?
I have names for you
and metaphors.
Mermaid.
Lily Maid of Astolot.
Elaine.
I look at you and wonder:
How’d the wheat get in your hair?
and the river in your eyes?
Wildflower,
What contents you
to be domesticated so?
Now ballerina
and assistant cook.
Do you include in these
mysterious ingredients:
ritual dances and magic herbs,
delicate sorcery
to cast your spells?
Fairy Princess,
in exile from your majesty,
You look at me
and only want to call me “Mother.”
It’s so simple.
Why is it so impossible to be.
This giggling girl was wise beyond her young years. Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy and has someone who makes her laugh.
P.S.: She really did own more than one shirt, although for some reason she’s wearing the same one in most of the photos I took of her.
Next time: Julie
give me a daisy 