May 10, 2009
The Dreamer? The loneliness of dreaming? My mother? My memory? My imagination? Yes. My imagination. The stories our minds tell us and re-tell us until we believe they are true. Mother. Born 1906. Turkey Creek. Arkansas Ozarks. Population within 5 miles? Maybe 50. A mill creek. Stories she told. Not often. Quietly. Little detail. My mind can only fill in the blanks. Loneliness. Dreaming. 8th grade education. One-room school. She would get a new pair of shoes in the fall. For school year. She could only put them on after waking the creek that ran in from of her home. And remove them again when she walked the wooded trail to return. Christmas. An orange. And dreams. Never told. But dreams. She lived to by almost 87. Good years. Long life. But still...the dreams. From my imagination. Drawing this. I thought of her.
