I think of my mother often. The grief is still there. It comes and goes in waves, but is not as raw. Almost every day I hear her voice in my head; I go through decision-making times asking myself “WWDD” (What Would Daisy Do?). So far, I feel that I’m on the right track. Like most of us, I’m a work in progress, but I’m proud of the woman I’m becoming. I think Mom would be proud of me too.
I framed the photo of Mom and David, the one that was taken in the hospital, the day after she gave birth to him. I catch myself rubbing my stomach, thinking how difficult it must have been for her to give him up for adoption. I never realized until recently how one decision, no matter how big or small, can totally change the trajectory of your life.
I haven’t heard from David since the night of the fight. It’s painful, and I sincerely hope that when he’s ready, he’ll contact me. After all these years, it would be extremely sad if we lost touch forever. I’m certain it’s not what my mother would have wanted for us.
His mother, Hannah, called me a couple of times, and graciously invited me to join them in Dallas for Thanksgiving and Christmas, an invitation that, of course, I declined. I’m pretty certain that neither son told her about the last evening we were all together. She may not even know about Robbie and me. If she does know, she doesn’t bring it up.
The first time she called me, she told me she had heard from Robbie about a week after he left. He told her he was being sent to Uganda to open a clinic for HIV and AIDS patients. He said he probably wouldn’t be able to write much and told her not to worry. But of course she worries—and so do I. Hannah told me that he mentioned me in his letter and asked her to check up on me to make sure I’m all right.
He hasn’t written her since, and it’s been almost five months. Sometimes I lie in bed at night thinking about how dangerous it is there, and what may happen to him. Unconsciously, as I’ve been doing for the past few months, I glance at the calendar and mentally calculate how long it will be until he’s back in New York. I don’t know what will happen when he returns, but I have to believe there’s a reason the connection I feel with him is so strong. Seven thousand miles separate us, but I feel a magnetic pull. I don’t know if this pull goes in both directions or if I will ever hear from him again. Only time will tell.
Daisy Rose kicks me again, this time harder. “Whoa, girl, another good one. You must be eating your Wheaties!” I rub my belly and say, “And when you finally arrive, I am going to be the best mommy in the world. I learned from the best. And I will tell you all about your grandma and how funny and crazy she was. She’s now your special angel and will watch over you for the rest of your life.” I wipe away my tears and remember why I’m in my mother’s office—well, I suppose it’s now my office. I’ve been seriously considering doing something, and as Grams used to say, there’s no time like the present.
I open the laptop and click on the MS Word icon. The program opens, and I stare at the white page for a good fifteen minutes.
I take a deep breath and look at Mom’s photo for creative inspiration and type:
The Seeds of a Daisy
Chapter 1
The Seeds Of A Daisy: The Lily Lockwood Series: Book One (Women's Fiction) Page 28