The Mind by Gloria Foster

Author:Gloria Foster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Charisma House
Published: 2017-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

WHEN I HUNG up the phone with Valencia, my first thought was how I was unaware of this occurrence in my early childhood. I pondered, reaching as far back as possible as my memory could allow, past my first day of work life, past my high school and college years, past the community organization, and even past memories of my siblings, past vacations, and birthday parties. I considered every memory of childhood during the timeframe that Valencia had stated I had been beaten. Interestingly, I could not envision or remember any clue from my past that would validate her recollection. Not that I wouldn’t believe Valencia. If there were anyone who would tell me the truth, it would be Valencia, although there were others who wouldn’t lie to me, including friends and family.

I don’t remember my father or my twin brothers ever fishing in the woods. They never went near the woods. There was a tree house that my father built in one of the oak trees that they used to play in when the twins were about ten years old. Yet, before that they used to play in the backyard. My mother was always outside with us. In addition, there was a host of my friends that used to come to my house to play in the backyard.

I had always thought when I got older that my mother was tied down watching my twin brothers due to the difficulty of raising two toddlers concurrently. In spite of it, she never one day appeared not to enjoy motherhood. She provided very patient mothering. When we were done playing in the evenings right before dinner was served, she would bathe us and put us in our sleep clothes prior to eating dinner. After a long day of play, we almost literally fell asleep at the dinner table. However, that would have never happened due to her relishing cuisine. Today I wonder how she finished supper when she spent the majority of time with us during the day. Each one of her meals was exceptional, in comparison to an experienced chef-for-hire. Interestingly, she never repeated meals for at least two months, and to this day I enjoy all foods. She properly introduced every kind of meat, poultry, vegetable, fruit, dessert, etc. I surmise that she arose early to cook and clean because our home was immaculate.

“Sheila?” Jonathan asked as he entered my room. “You have your doctor’s visit at 2:00 p.m.”

“Yes, Jonathan, my first therapy visit,” I said. “I am going to shower, and I’ll be ready in a flash.”

“All right, I’m going to be downstairs in the sitting room,” he stated. “I’ll drive you into town.”

Since I had lost track of time, I quickly gathered my apparel. I was feeling somewhat nervous about the newness and felt like telling Jonathan that I didn’t want to do this therapy visit. It’s horrible to feel nervous and have to rush.

“Hey, Jonathan!” I called.

“Yes, Sheila.”

“I feel like I’m on my way to an interview,” I said, and before I could finish my sentence, Jonathan was standing in my doorway.

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