> > Through the Years > > My mother, Hazel, sits peeling potatoes. Dressed in Mama's > movie star coat with the real fur collar, high heels, and > beautiful red velvet hat, I shuffle elegantly into the kitchen > and gleefully yell, "Look Mommy, I'm little Hazel!" Mama looks > up and smiles with tears in her eyes. I am completely aware of > how incredibly cute I am being. I am four years old, and Mama > is my friend. > "Oh, Mom, it's so pretty! I love it! Thank you, thank > you, thank you," I cry as I turn and rustle in my new party > dress. My fingers touch the soft, peach satin, and I look up to > see Mom smiling at me. I am nine years old, and, sometimes, Mom > is still my fairy godmother. > "I'll be glad when I go to college next year and don't have > to live here any more," I scream at my mother. "If you keep on > acting this way," she says in frustration, "I'll be glad too." > Hurt and shocked by this revelation, I storm out of the room, > trying to hold back my tears. I am seventeen years old, and, > too often Mother is my adversary. > "I did it! I did it! I got an A from Professor King," I > shriek. I leap to my feet, waving my report card in the warm > kitchen air. Mom tells me she's proud of me, and we dance > around the kitchen in a wild victory jig. I am twenty-one years > old, and Mom is my biggest cheerleader. > I am barely able to make out "Flight 405 to Great Falls is > now ready for boarding" over the airport intercom. After all > those times when it was me leaving and my mother was crying, > it's now her turn to depart, and I am the one left crying. I > look at Mama and do something I haven't done since I was four > years old; I grab her hand and say, "Don't leave." She touches > my cheek and says, "But honey, I've got my ticket." Hugging her > close to me, I say, "The only way I'll let you go is if you > promise to come back for Christmas." Dabbing at her own tears, > she says, "Oh yes, I'll be back." I am thirty-seven years old, > and Mama is my friend. This time, it is forever. > > By Nancy Richard-Guilford > Reprinted by permission of Nancy Richard-Guilford (c) 1998, from > A 6th Bowl of Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield and > Mark Victor Hansen. > > »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§« You're Just Jealous Because The Voices Are Talking To Me Richiele Sloan ICQ #63829109 (Missi) »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«

----- Original Message ----- From: <RICHIELE3@aol.com> To: <FOLKLORE-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Monday, May 07, 2001 11:01 AM Subject: [FOLKLORE FAMILY] Re: Chicken Soup for the Soul: Home Delivery > > > > Through the Years > > > > My mother, Hazel, sits peeling potatoes. Dressed in Mama's > > movie star coat with the real fur collar, high heels, and > > beautiful red velvet hat, I shuffle elegantly into the kitchen > > and gleefully yell, "Look Mommy, I'm little Hazel!" Mama looks > > up and smiles with tears in her eyes. I am completely aware of > > how incredibly cute I am being. I am four years old, and Mama > > is my friend. > > "Oh, Mom, it's so pretty! I love it! Thank you, thank > > you, thank you," I cry as I turn and rustle in my new party > > dress. My fingers touch the soft, peach satin, and I look up to > > see Mom smiling at me. I am nine years old, and, sometimes, Mom > > is still my fairy godmother. > > "I'll be glad when I go to college next year and don't have > > to live here any more," I scream at my mother. "If you keep on > > acting this way," she says in frustration, "I'll be glad too." > > Hurt and shocked by this revelation, I storm out of the room, > > trying to hold back my tears. I am seventeen years old, and, > > too often Mother is my adversary. > > "I did it! I did it! I got an A from Professor King," I > > shriek. I leap to my feet, waving my report card in the warm > > kitchen air. Mom tells me she's proud of me, and we dance > > around the kitchen in a wild victory jig. I am twenty-one years > > old, and Mom is my biggest cheerleader. > > I am barely able to make out "Flight 405 to Great Falls is > > now ready for boarding" over the airport intercom. After all > > those times when it was me leaving and my mother was crying, > > it's now her turn to depart, and I am the one left crying. I > > look at Mama and do something I haven't done since I was four > > years old; I grab her hand and say, "Don't leave." She touches > > my cheek and says, "But honey, I've got my ticket." Hugging her > > close to me, I say, "The only way I'll let you go is if you > > promise to come back for Christmas." Dabbing at her own tears, > > she says, "Oh yes, I'll be back." I am thirty-seven years old, > > and Mama is my friend. This time, it is forever. > > > > By Nancy Richard-Guilford > > Reprinted by permission of Nancy Richard-Guilford (c) 1998, from > > A 6th Bowl of Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield and > > Mark Victor Hansen. > > > > > > > > > »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§« > You're Just Jealous Because The Voices > Are Talking To Me > Richiele Sloan ICQ #63829109 (Missi) > > »§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§«:*´`³¤³´`*:»§« > > ______________________________