Monday, June 8, 2015


A 3-year old red haired girl payed on the floor of her mother's bedroom. She'd creatively used her fingers as marching soldiers along the beige carpet, as she sang the song she and her mother would sing when she'd brush her hair at night.

Author Tasha Wright
Forgiveness - Author Tasha Wright
The resting woman opened her baggy red eyes in search of the familiar angelic voice, "Who's there," she called out.

It's me Mommy," the  little girl said with a slight giggle.

"I must have drank too much," the woman guzzled the last of her strong tonic, and then relaxed under the hand sown quilt.

The girl strolled over to the window. The golden rays from the rising sun crept through the pulled shades.

The woman covered her eyes with her trembling hands. "I can't do this," she cried. "How am I supposed to go on without my baby girl?"

The little girl eased to her mother's bedside. The pile of crumpled Kleenex had formed a tall mountain, and there were empty bottles thrown along the floor. Her soft hand grazed upon her mother's damp cheek as she stared at the disheveled woman with weary eyes.

"Oh my God, is that you Abby? Please tell me that's you. I need you to forgive me for leaving you with that awful evil woman. I shouldn't have trusted her. I'm so sorry she took you away from me. I feel so terrible. I wanted to see you grow into a woman. I wanted to celebrate all your success and feats. Now, here I am with all this pain."

"It's not your fault Mommy." She kissed the woman's cheek and suddenly her surroundings changed. The dark depressed room was no longer. Her job was done. She gave her grieving mother the closure she needed, and it was time for her to move on.

The sound of the little girl's voice, and the touch of her tiny hand was enough for the woman to find the strength to forgive herself because sometimes the questions are more complicated than the answers.

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