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sunshine

Posted on July 6, 2009 by wildreader

I always knew that when I was sad or lonely, all I had to do was reach deep inside myself and let out a ray of golden sunshine. Mama told me, the words slipping through fading lips with her last life breaths, that there was sunshine in my soul that would keep me warm forever, and all I had to do was find where it was and set it free. Mama knew everything. She was never wrong, and I’m not about to make her into a liar. Up until now, I haven’t ever been worried, because the sunshine was always waiting to be let out. Maybe it changes places every once in a while, and that’s why I’m having trouble finding it this time.

The day God took her opened clear crisp blue. She had lain on the couch all night to watch the world throw off its covers and see the bright head peek over the horizon. The hills arched up their green bellies to rub against the sky. Two new lambs trailed after their mother, calling out: “Maaaa, Maaaa.” She laughed at that. All was right with the world. Even if the male were the primary caregiver, they would still call for their mother. It was the one thing they knew how to say. That was just the way things were.

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