- Ficha técnica
- MARY ARMOCK
I wonder what dying is. And death. I listened hard and heard Mother talking about it, but I guess even she doesn't know.
Mother talks to me a lot. I'm even getting so I can talk to her a little. I think she likes that. But Mother talks to me even when I don't ask anything. That's how I know I'll be going Outside pretty soon. I'm glad because even though Mother has told me all about it, it's not the same as seeing it for yourself. Of course, I wouldn't tell Mother that. It might make her unhappy and I couldn't do that. Not to anyone. Especially Mother.
I remember a long time ago - anyhow it seems like a long time ago - I woke up and rolled over and touched Mother. That's when she started talking to me. She told me how long she'd been waiting for me to do that and how much she loved me and wanted me. I felt kind of ashamed. I'd been so busy with other things that I hadn't even thought of her. So I rolled over as close to her as I could to make up for it. The love-feeling grew and grew until we - laughed, I guess. Just because we were happy. At least, Mother laughed and maybe I did, too. I'm not sure. Mother said I just had the hiccups. I was very happy, though.
We were happy for a time, Mother, Daddy and I. We live on a farm and Daddy is a farmer. He wasn't always a farmer, though. Once he worked in a big white room with all kinds and shapes of bottles sitting on long white tables all over the room. And people went scurrying among the bottles checking and changing and adding bubbly colored stuff to more bubbly colored stuff and it was all very exciting. At least, that's what Mother says and she should know because that's where she met Daddy. But Daddy says he's sorry he ever knew one chemical from another. So now he's a farmer and goes out in the fields every day or into the woods to hunt and fish and get firewood.