Saturday, June 17, 2017

I Dreamed a Dream

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I dreamed a dream that took me home to Brooklyn and the home I loved on Linden Street.  You know how dreams are.   Back and forth I traveled in time, colors dark and light, swirling.  A brown wood door stood closed before me and I knocked, listening for feet. They came to the other side shuffling.

A woman, my aunt, old and white haired now, turned the knob and opened it, and I saw a golden light stream into the room and fill it.  I told her I was to meet my Mother here.  She said she'd come at four this afternoon.  All of them, my mother's sisters, were sitting on kitchen chairs shaking their heads and wiping their eyes, saying to each other . . . "She's not coming, poor thing, she never should have said that."

My heart began to sink, another lie, just keep pretending. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw another room, dimly lit and a bed with a worn suitcase on it, opened and strewn with clothes.  There she stood, my Mother, still in her coat and frailer than I remembered.  My Mother, tear stained and seemingly afraid to come to me.  Oh, I was so happy and relieved!

"Mommy!" I cried, and ran to her like a little girl again, wrapping my arms around her saying how much I loved her and missed her for so long.  She held me too and I could feel her hair against my cheek.  The whole room began to fill with that golden light.
She kissed my face all over, just the way she always did when I was small, and she smiled that smile I've waited to see again . . . for all my life.  My gift, my answered prayer . . . She was waiting for me there, and all I had to do was knock.

Joanne Cucinello  2014

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