Dolly's Diagnosis II

Hysterical once more, I hide under the clothes rack at the Penney store. My mother shops. Black velvet. Dark stockings like shadows on the dressing room floor. "Come here Tinkerbell!"

I am lost. Abandonment complicated by dignity, expectations, guilt. "Straighten up! Be good!"

I have clung to her legs and felt the desperation of her leaving. Once. Twice. "For my own good."

Tonight the hard wind blows from here to there. She hears it and the miles between are nothing.