I guess nobody is more surprised than I am that I have written a second book, so shortly after I published my first book: Wings on her Heels, which was released in August, this year.
But I have to admit, about half of the poems and short stories were written over the past years, — so it wasn’t all that much of a feat to put this book together in such a short period of time.
The book is as different as can be from my first novel. But I have always had this book, way before my first novel came to being, in the back of my mind.
Me, ( 6 months old) and my mother.
It all started with my Mom. She gave me a warm loving childhood, and after surviving the usual mother and daughter teenage hassles, we grew closer as the years went by. And after the initial shock of realizing how much we really were alike, I acknowledge that our similar interests and our spontaneous way of embracing everything we love are exactly the reasons why we were so close.
Visiting her at the assisted living home, and later on in the senior home was truly a pleasure for me. At the time, I was still running my own business, and was raising our baby granddaughter. So visiting my mother was an — out time — for me. It relaxed me to leaf through the old photo albums with her, take her on car rides, or accompany her on short walks. I was truly blessed with my mother, for she was so appreciative of every little thing I did. I loved how she would call me her angel — her own personal angel.
As the years passed, her concentration began to fade. But still she always loved a good story, as long as it wasn’t too long. I set out to find such stories. I didn’t want a children’s book, since my mother would have been insulted by that. I wanted a book to read to her, touch on topics — pleasant topics, that would motivate new conversations. Perhaps there is a book out there that satisfies those needs, I searched — but I couldn’t find it.
my mother, my granddaughter, and me
So while putting my poems and short stories together, I always had my mother in mind. — Would this make her laugh? Would this make her thoughtful? Would this encourage her to share with me some long forgotten memory?
Many seniors fall into a depression. So the last thing I wanted to do was stir up sad memories. My mother loved to laugh. Oh, and how I loved to laugh with her.