Wendy Bacorn Perry

Mom's black book

One fall day I was walking through the woods behind my house. It was sunny and warm out. The leaves of the trees sparkled with red, orange, and yellow. I was reminiscing about my mother; she had suddenly passed away this summer. She was a very caring person and would go without to give me what I needed in life. Not what I wanted but what I needed. We often walked these woods and make up stories of the things we would find laying on the ground. We could laugh and talk for hours. The silence now made me realized how much I miss her. I went to our favorite tree. The tree was a large oak tree that would keep us dry if it started raining. We would sit here and made-up stories of items we would find. Sitting there and looking around, I notice a piece of plastic in the crevices of the tree. I pulled it out. It was a zip lock bag and inside was a black book. A million thoughts went through my mind. How did it get here? What will be inside? I turn the first page and to see my mother's handwriting was beautiful. I read the words “to my loving daughter I love you always please go and find the box under the house”. So many questions went through my mind. “what is in the box”? “Why is it under the house”? “Why my mother would do this”? Needless to say, I ran all the way home.