Sunday, February 20, 2011
Girl With A Curl
My mom is my hero today and forever. It all began 60 years ago when I was born in Brooklyn on July 12t, 1949.I was told that I was either singing ,dancing or crying. I was never in between. I was either happy or sad. I remember years later going to a therapist and explaining this and telling her that I wanted to learn to live in “grey”.For me my world consisted of only black and white. I did finally discover grey and I found it to be a boring place to be. And so my story begins.
There was once a little girl with a curl right in the middle of her forehead and when she was good she was very very good and when she was bad she was horrid.
After all these years I was sitting in a park today and there was a little girl with blond curly hair playing with her mom in a sandbox. After a while she went to her mom and hugged her so, and of course her mom picked her up into her arms and held her tight. She must have been around 3 years old. With no emotions attached I wonder if I had experienced doing that with my mom when I was so young. I have no memory of it at all, but what flashed into my head was a rhyme my mom use to say to me a lot. It brought warmth to my heart. I too like this little girl had blond curly hair.
There was once a little girl with a curl right in the middle of her forehead and
When she was good she was very, very good and when she was bad she was horrid.