Friday, July 12, 2013


     I wrote to Hanah. I told her that, if she believes that there is a good reason not to communicate with me, I accept that. However hard it is for me to be so far apart and, even more so, be cut off from her, I have no choice in that. My lovely girl is growing up and doing what her heart tells her to do. I only hope, that I can look her in the eyes, when she, finally, gets home, and not judge her for my pain. And if I can do that, I hope that she doesn't think of  me as a doormat.
     My parents lived alone in New York before they went to visit mt sister in Denmark. As they disembarked from the plane in Copenhagen, my mother began to repeat incessantly: "Where is my "dora", where is my "dora"?! You see, she learned her English in Spanish Harlem and so always said "dora" instead of daughter, "fory" or "thiry" - instead of forty or thirty, and so on. When my dad told me about mom calling to her "dora" like that, both, he and I, thought that she was a little batty. Now I totally understand her, because I also am lonesome for my "dora"!

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