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Looking Out My Backdoor

Hit might be the Ar-thur-i-tis

 


I woke from my dream with that southern hill-country woman’s voice in my ear. The voice, the memory, from past years, was triggered in that non-linear way of memories, by a phone conversation with my daughter the previous day.

My oldest granddaughter is in a precarious place in her life. A baby with babies. Jessica is young, alone with two babies, lonely, no job, no direction and thinking biologically instead of using her logical brain. I remember those feelings; I was young once.

Harper’s father sent her train tickets for a visit. Harper is Jess’s older daughter, my great-grandd...



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