Saturday, March 19, 2005
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Mother Superior Jumped the Gun
When I hold you
in my arms
and I feel my finger on your trigger
I know no one can do me no harm
because happiness is a warm gun
The BeatlesA little over a year ago, I wrote this about a trip I took with my mother shortly before she died. Here's what I left out:
August 1980: Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, Hurricane River Campground on Lake Superior. Mom and I sit on the beach at dusk. The evening is pleasant, but there's a damp chill in the air and dense rainclouds hover near the horizon.
She whispers in my ear: "Are you still my horny little girl?" Her words hit me like a knock-out blow from a fighter in the ring that I hadn't seen coming. All that I did not remember comes surging forward in a single moment and slams me into the boards. Here I am, lying prostrate at the feet of my conquerer as I had eight years before. I put this moment and the ones that follow that night in the box with the others I had forgotten, and will forget again when I stand up in the morning.
Then the storm that has been gathering over the water attacks the shore. We run to the tent seeking shelter from its rage, but I find no refuge from the rage within.
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