IT’S A “HURTIN’ THING” Chapter 4

EXCERPT FROM MY UPCOMING BOOK: HOLY LOVE: A MEMOIR OF SORROW TO GLORY
 

Walking to Wiley’s market like two big girls, on those warm, sultry summer days holds a sacred place in my memory. I recall balmy walks with my sister in Indian summers as we crunched through the colorful leaves on our mission to the corner store. We’d make acorn rings and play hopscotch for hours. The smells of fallen leaves on the sidewalk in autumn are savory imprints in my mind.

These memories belong to Lee as well. She was as present at the rising sun.

Lee’s imprint in my memory is indelible. My father had hired her to work two to three days a week. It could have been every day early on—I don’t recall exactly. I do recall that she was always home in the family room ironing with the television on when I’d return home from school. While I could never predict if my mother would be home when I returned, I always knew that I’d find Lee there.

She was my rock to stand on in the days of my youth.