by Anonymous
One of the happiest stories I know is actually a memory and a large part of my life's story. My mother had to leave when I was a young girl of about six or seven.
At that time in my life, I didn't know why she left or where she went. In all actuality, it really didn't matter why she left or where she went. All I knew was my sister and I went to live with our father and from that point on our lives would no longer be the same.
I was a young girl who missed her mother so very much no matter the reason why she wasn't around. Months had gone by without seeing my mother and I carried a wallet sized photo of her senior high picture around with me everywhere. She would send me and my sister a letter here and there, usually having clipped out a comic from her local newspaper and sent that along as well.
She sent a recipe one time: cinnamon sugar toast. I still make that to this day and even taught my children. One night, my father sat me and my sister down on the couch and told us to go to our room and change because we were expecting a very special visitor that night.
As I changed, I took my mom's picture out off my back pocket and placed it on top of my dresser. I remember wishing so hard that the special visitor would be my mother. My sister and I sat on the couch and didn't dare move.
Finally, my dad said our visitor was here. The door slowly opened but I could tell that shadowy figure was my mother. To this day, I don't even remember my feet touching the floor as I went to her. It was as if I was teleported from the couch across the living room into her arms.
Comments for A Wallet Size Photo Of My Mother
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