A Good Cry

All day, I have felt like I have needed a good cry. My tears were constantly about to breach their levee. My heart felt so full. And you may think you know why, but there’s a different reason. Or an additional reason, perhaps.

Last night I had a visit from Vivian, Bill’s mother, who died more than 10 years ago. It is the first time I’ve talked with her since she left us. And frankly, I’m a little surprised she showed up in my overnight dreams. Let’s just say that she wasn’t the warmest woman in the world.

I showed her the house. She laughed because it is messier than it was when it was hers. (It isn’t messy. It just has more-better stuff.) She asked about some people. And when I asked how she could be possibly be here, she said “they get two visits.” It was nice to see her again.

Over these many years, in the wee dreamnight hours, I’ve enjoyed visiting with my grandfather and Bill’s grandfather. I once scolded Mar Mar for not being nice in her later years, and she never showed up again. Ginger had a visit from her Papa while she was at the police academy — he told her everything would be all right, and that she’d be assigned to 014th District. It was, and she was.

So this morning, when I told Bill that I’d visited with his mother last night, he smiled and said that he’d spent time with his grandmother last night! He’d looked for his mother, because they were in the old farm house, but he couldn’t find her.

Because she was here. With me.