Donna Jones Book Site

Death of a Love Letter

Kicking off my high-heels as I slumped down into what use to be my aunt’s favorite chair, I could nearly hear her voice ringing out from the kitchen, “Dear, would you like a glass of sweet tea?”  Oh, what I would give to see her come around the corner with a tall glass of tea in hand, topped off with a fresh mint sprig from her garden.  I could envision her handing it to me and kissing my forehead, the way she had done since I was a child.  Swooning there in my memories, reality came knocking as my son approached and drew me back to consciousness.  “Mom, are you doing all right?  Can I get anything for you?” he said as he knelt down next to me, gently placing his hand on my knee.

Looking into his dark brown eyes, I saw his caring heart and felt his love seemingly wrap around me.  “No sweetie, I am doing fine.  Thank you so much for asking though.”

With that, he stood and kissed my forehead.  A tear fell from my eye.

Not wanting to lose my composure in front of all of the well-wishers that were beginning to arrive, I quietly slipped out of the room and found the comfort of my aunt’s bedroom; closing the door behind me.  Once there, safely tucked away with my emotions, I sat on the edge of the bed admiring all of her things and allowing myself to be warmed by my memories.  As I did so, visions of my dear aunt, laying there in her casket kept rushing in.  I battled those visions, pushing them away and silently I plead with god to please send her back to me. If I could just tell her one more time how much she was loved.  She was one of those people who didn’t have a “bad bone in her body.”  Everyone loved her!

Knowing that made it hard to understand why in her nearly 86 years of life, she had never married.  In my opinion, any man would have been lucky to have someone like her; and I think that she would have been a very loving and caring mother as well.  I remembered asking her once why she never married.  Her reply was simple, “Just because I was never married does not mean that I was never asked.”  With that I wondered what her life would have been like if she had married.  Surely, her husband would have been heartbroken like the rest of us, to have lost such an incredible lady.  Reaching up and touching the necklace she had given me so long ago, I accepted that I would never know the answer to that question.

Twirling the key-shaped necklace in my hand, I recalled how she use to smile and tease me about wearing the “key to her heart.”  This was her way of telling me how much I was loved.  I would forever be in her heart as she would be in mine.  This brought me some peace in my time of need.

Feeling more calm and as though I could return and mingle with those who had come to give their condolences, I stood to leave.  Glancing around the room one more time, I could still smell my aunt’s lavender perfume touch my senses.  I lifted the key and placed it on my lips for what seemed like an eternity as I bid my aunt farewell.  Then, releasing the necklace, expecting it to fall back in to place, I frantically watched as the chain broke and the key fell to the ground.  In a panic, I scanned the floor, but could not see where the key had gone.  Falling down on my knees, I began to run my hands over the wood floor as tears filled my eyes.  How could it have disappeared so quickly?  I tried to calm myself and put things into perspective, reminding myself that it had to be here.  It could not have just disappeared!

Lifting the bedspread slightly, I knelt down in hopes of finding the key there beneath my aunt’s bed.  My heart jumped with excitement as my eyes focused to the darkness and saw it shimmering back at me.  As I fumbled to reach in and grab it, I wondered if my arm would be long enough to retrieve it.  In a hurried attempt, I pushed the upper half of my body beneath the bed.  Just as I had it in my grasp, I noticed a box tucked there in the darkness.  I squinted to see the words that adorned what appeared to be some kind of decorated box.  Curiosity got the best of me, and as I escaped from beneath the bed of dust bunnies, I brought with me, the box.

Slowly moving into a sitting position, my focus was on the box now, rather than the key necklace.  Instantly, I tried to open it, like a child at Christmas, but this present was not mine for the opening.  No, it was locked up tight.

I began to run my hand over the box, removing what had to have been years worth of dust.  Like a treasure being pulled from the depths, beneath the dust lay a beautifully hand-painted box.  Amazed at its beauty, I once again tried to make out the words.  Maybe it was just the name of the artist, I still could not tell.  Leaning to my left, I opened the drawer of my aunt’s nightstand, removing her antique magnifying glass.  Through this circular glass everything became very clear.  The words read:  MY HEART.

For a moment, I quietly pondered.  Then, as though a bolt of lightning had struck near to me, causing me to sit up at full attention, everything began to make sense to me.

“MY KEY,” I blurted out.  Could it be that my key to my “aunts heart” was the same key that would reveal what she kept locked away in this box?  Taking the key in to my hand, I began to shake with excitement as I gingerly placed it inside the lock.  Biting my lip, I said a small prayer as I turned the key in hopes that it would allow my entrance.

“Click.”  I paused and took a deep breath as the realization sank in that the lock was now undone.

My excitement continued to build as I slowly opened the top to reveal the box’s contents.

Envelopes!  Faded worn envelopes!  The box was filled to the rim with what I would guess was over a hundred old envelopes.  Why would she keep these under lock and key?  Why would she keep them at all?  My excitement dwindled a bit.  Had I honestly been hoping to find some kind of treasure staring back at me?  Diamonds?  Gold bullion?

I began to thumb through the envelopes, and it occurred to me that my aunt had loved me with her “heart!”  After all, she had entrusted me, and only me with the “key to her heart.”  So…maybe…these weren’t just silly old envelopes.  Maybe I had come upon what my aunt had treasured.  Feeling somewhat voyeuristic, I opened one of the envelopes and began to read the hand-written note that I found inside.

It became instantly clear that these letters were indeed her treasure; they were her heart. One letter after another I read, unable now to walk away from the box.  My addiction to the words in these letters grabbed hold of me and would not release me from their emotional grasp.  I was there, living through the words and seeing my aunt in a way that I had never imagined.  For you see, these were not just any old letters….they were love letters from a man who had been deeply in love with my dear aunt.

Myself, having been divorced for nearly 20 years now, had only dreamed of receiving letters like these.  I guess that I had missed the grand old age of letter writing.  It was a thing of the past and I would never know what it was like to have a box filled with letters such as these. I continued to read and live vicariously through my aunt’s past, wondering if this was the man she had spoken of so long ago when I asked her why she had never married.

My question was soon answered as I read one letter in particular.  Jonathon, my aunt’s love, referred to a letter that my aunt must have written to him.  In it he mentioned that he could no longer continue on this way and that her refusal to marry him had broken his heart.  It was then that I realized why my aunt had kept silent over the years.  The love of her life was a married man.  Jonathon, had apparently offered to leave his wife and marry my aunt, but she had refused to let him do so.  With that, he wrote this final letter declaring that his love for her would always be a part of him.  He promised her that he would move on as she asked him to do, but that not one single day would pass that he did not think of her.  His final words were, “I will see you in heaven, my dear angel.”

I wondered if they had met again in heaven or if Jonathon was still here on earth waiting to see his angel again. With that, I took out a piece of paper and on it I wrote, “Jonathon, you were her heart.  You were always her heart. You were truly in love with an angel.”  Folding it gently, I placed it in the box and locked it tight, keeping my aunt’s heart safe and satisfied that my aunt had known TRUE LOVE.



Monsters Amongst Us

Am I truly this naive or have things around me changed more than even I could realize?  I mean sure, back when I was a kid, we had bullies…but now it seems as though bullies have a whole other source to spread their evil.  They do it behind the darkness of the internet, like little cowards.  Almost like a gunman, shooting it’s kill from a distance…never knowing his victim, but simply shooting for the sheer hell of it. Why am I just now realizing this?  Is it because it happened to a friend and the more I looked into it I came to see that he was just one of many victims?

What sickened me the most in this discovery was that within moments on the computer, I tripped across countless attacks on others.  Sure, as adults, we can try to look past the rantings of a coward, but many of these senseless and uncalled for attacks were made on CHILDREN!!!!  Nothing in this world angers me more than seeing a child hurt, whether it is my own or someone elses child!

Before I go any further, let me apologize to those of you who normally check out my blog to read my short stories…I will warn you, this is not a short story.  It is NOT about love and kindness, of which I normally speak.  It is simply me…ranting!  Nothing pretty about this blog and please don’t expect it to flow beautifully or be a written piece of genius!  Expect me, asking you, what has this world come to?

I use to listen to my parents say the dreaded words, “Back in my day, we…..”  It was always followed up by some tale of how the world had worsened since then or become far too difficult.  Now, today at the age of 46, I hear the words of my parents as they slide over my own lips.  Yet, it is true, back in my day, when I was a child or a young adult, there wasn’t this sense of doom and drama around that seems to surround the youth of today.  Yeah…there was an occasional bully, BUT everyone knew who he/she was and just tried to steer clear.  Yet now, the bullies are namelessagelessfaceless…hiding behind their computer screens with seemingly nothing better to do with their time than seek out others to spew their poison on.  Even worse is that it isn’t just children doing this.  It can be irresponsible adults as well who have such low self-esteem and self-worth that they pick on others, including CHILDREN.  What the HELL???  I just do not get it!

Sure, I have heard about these people in the news, but today for some reason, seeing it myself, opened my eyes to the horror of their words.  How could I have been so naïve?  Why didn’t I listen until now?  Seeing it with my own eyes woke me up!!!  I was disgusted with myself for not seeing it and disgusted by the fact that there are people out there that can be more than just hateful!  They are word terrorists of sorts!  Do they not stop to think about the effect that their actions could have on their victims and their families???  The pain that these idiots inflict through their words cuts like a knife.  It hurt me to read some of these things and I can’t even imagine how it made the recipients feel…or should we call them what they are…VICTIMS.  Geez Louise….Why I ask?  Why even go on such senseless attacks?


As a mother, I beg of you to watch what your kids post on the computer and keep an eye on even their most precious posts.  I saw posts that children had made for their grandparents to view or other family that lives far away…beautiful posts with adorable sentiment.  Following the beauty was horrid attacks on these children’s appearance…the way they spoke….what they wore…and even harsh words about their family.

So please…I know that we tell our children, “There isn’t such things as monsters,” but in today’s world…there is!  Help in this fight to protect our kids.  For, somewhere out there, the monsters are ready to pounce on your child with an ugliness that is indescribable!  They sit in wait, behind their keyboard, just mulling around, swimming in their hatred and self-loathing.  Furthermore, what I have found is, that when our children do try to say something back to these monsters in their own defense, it only heightens the bullies arousement level and they then know they have your child in their sights!  It’s “game on” for them, but for some of our children, it is “lights out,” because they can take no more….

Need I say more?


Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh

Sweat rolled off my brow as I tried desperately to finish mowing the lawn as quickly as I could.  Like most moms, my schedule was full of taxi cab duties, fixing boo-boos, cleaning, cooking, paying bills, doing laundry, and yes, mowing the yard.  Fortunately, my daughter was down for her nap and my other two children hadn’t returned home from school.  With any luck I would have enough time to get the lawn mowed and continue my multi-tasking throughout the evening.

The truth of the matter was, that on top of being a super mom, I had to up it a notch and give “Sally the Homemaker” a good run for her money as well.  My house was always immaculate, my children well cared for and I didn’t miss a single dance, karate, soccer or baseball game.  Each night, after a hot meal there was always a homemade dessert.  Then, come morning, there was a full-fledged hot breakfast that rivaled any restaurant; waiting there for my kids as they came running down the stairs.  Life was good, but I was worn out.

Just as I thought I had this particular day under control, things took a turn for the worse.  In my attempt to quickly finish the yard, I inadvertently ran over a large rock.  Much to my surprise the collision with the rock caused a huge spark that ignited into a flame.  In a panic, I looked down at the mower, which was now in a swirl of black smoke and small orange flames.  “Fire…that’s a fire,” I thought in a somewhat calm manner.  The funny thing was, the real thing on my mind was, “Please, God, NO..if this thing breaks, I will never get this yard finished.”  Thus proving that a womans work is never done.

Pushing that thought away, my next thought was more like a shear rush of panic.  My brain was now screaming, “FIRE!”

Fire.  What do you do when there is a fire?  Stop, drop and roll of course.  That’s what had been pounded into my head since childhood.  With that, I flipped the lawnmower over in an attempt to roll it.  “Swooosh,” went the fire as it grew instantly to gargantuan proportions.  What was I thinking?  Had I really just flipped a lawnmower upside down that was already on fire, just to have the contents of its gas tank to spew out and create a near disaster?  Yep…yep…I did!  I did just that!  Without a minute to spare and in fear that the fire would spread to the nearby pine mulch, I ran to get the hose.  Like an experienced fireman, I disposed of the flame with my expert aim of the great green yard hose.  Standing there next to the smoldering lawn mower, I swore to never tell anyone of this event.  (Besides, I bet Sally the Homemaker doesn’t even mow her lawn.)  The good news was that now, due to the flame, I had less lawn to mow.  That’s me, always looking on the bright side.

After pushing the singed mower back into the garage, I returned indoors only to hear that my little one was up and moving.  Up and moving is hardly descript enough to describe her.  She was a little fireball (no pun intended), full of smiles and limitless energy.  That child had one setting and it was set for “full speed.”  She was all of three years old and as cute as a button.  I simply adored her, just as I did my boys.  They all were truly the light of my life and always would be.  I would work my fingers to the bone as a stay-at-home mom with a husband that traveled, but I didn’t care.  They were worth it to me!

With no time to spare, I jumped in to the shower, taking my already clean daughter with me.  She would sit and play in the bottom of the shower, giggling up a storm, not realizing that my only hope of getting my shower was to take her with me.  The same would go for when I had to use the restroom, in she would go and we would have a “potty party.”  Why a party you ask?  I guess I just figured that if it was more than just me in there doing my business, then it must be a “party.”  Lord knows, this child never missed a party and I never pottied alone.  And..I rarely showered alone either. Come to think about it, I don’t recall hardly ever having a minute alone.

Anyway, back to my story….

Minutes later, I jumped out of the shower, dried the both of us off and got ready as fast as I could.  There was still a lot to do before the boys arrived home from school.

Next on my agenda was to take my daughter to the doctor for her first dental check-up.  Like a fine-oiled machine, I got us to the appointment right on time.  After a few tears, (hers not mine), she had agreed to climb up in to the dentist’s chair.  Smiling down at her he started a fun little counting game.  “One, two, three, four….Can you count with me?  How about we count your teeth, cutie,” he asked?  She did not look amused and pursed her lips tight.  I could see that this was not going to go smooth.  Then, in another attempt, the dentist started the game again, this time making funny faces and laughing as he did so.  I personally thought he looked a bit insane myself and I wasn’t quite sure that I would open my mouth for him either.

It became apparent that this counting game was futile, and may result in personal injury to the doctor’s fingers if he tried to press the issue.  With that, I asked her to “do it for mommy.”  Like the gates of heaven, her lips parted and revealed her pearly whites.  I let out a sigh of relief and a smile crossed my face that showed instant pride for my sweet child.  Looking down on her, beaming as only a mother does, I watched as the dentist began to count her teeth.  Then, without warning, she closed her mouth.  Thankfully it wasn’t to bite the dentist, but rather to tell him that he has “too many hairs coming out of his nose.”  My smile faded and I realized that from her view-point, she may be right.  I knew immediately that I too would have to check out this man’s nose hair when I went in for my appointment.  Oh, dear lord, with that thought, I knew that she was definitely my child!  I then picked her up out of the chair and bid the dentist a fond farewell.

Upon leaving the office, we had one more stop.  It was time to take a break, relax and have some lunch with my daughter.  As we walked in the restaurant many people stopped us to compliment me for having such a beautiful daughter.  She was indeed beautiful, like a little ray of sunshine and not a shy bone in her body.  Sitting down at the table, we began to talk about how fun it was to go to the dentist for the first time.  Like most children, she tried to keep to our conversation, but her eyes began to wonder about the room.  I noticed that her eyes had zoomed in on something.  As I followed her glare in an attempt to see what had caught her attention, she yelled out “Hey, are you a boy or a girl?”

It was then, in a flash that I saw two women sitting together nearly three tables away from us.  To be honest, they weren’t the most feminine looking women that I had ever seen, but they were definitely not men!  I turned immediately to my daughter, quietly explaining to her that “you just don’t say things like that.”  Yet my scolding was interrupted as one of the women said back, “We are girls.”  I tried to ignore their response and keep my daughter looking my way.  However, their declaration of womanhood won out and my daughter spun her head back around to them.

Before I could get a word out, she offered them some of her very own  fashion advice.

“Well you ought to wear lipstick or something!” she said, looking pleased with herself.

Fighting the urge to crawl under the table, I crinkled my nose in an apologetic manner and shrugged my shoulders towards them.  “Sorry” just didn’t seem to be adequate enough at that moment, but I felt somewhat better to see that the two WOMEN were not offended, but instead they were laughing at my precious child.  On second thought, maybe they were laughing at me, because she was my child.  Maybe they were laughing because they were glad that she wasn’t their child.  Either way, I felt that it was best to leave.

After taking the last few bites, we gathered our things.  On the way out to the car, I relived that moment in the restaurant over and over.  Then, the dentist’s nose hairs came to mind.  Putting my daughter into her car seat, I closed the passenger door.

As I walked around to the driver’s side, I realized…I was actually alone.  It was quiet and I was there with just my thoughts.  I laughed out loud at the absurdity of my day, and then gave thanks that unlike other days, she hadn’t reported to complete strangers that her mommy had made a stinky poop, or that her mommy has hair on her butt.  It was then, as I laughed at her silliness, that I was reminded that we all do silly things sometimes.  Afterall, I just “Stopped, dropped and rolled” a lawnmower that morning.

But…that one is just between you and me!



Just Believe…

Just Believe….

Love can come when least expected and it can change your life forever!  This simple moment in time, when love is placed before you; reach out and take it!  Don’t spend your days questioning how that love came to be, because you may come to find that there is no explanation other than it was meant to be!!! Allow yourself to feel and experience what is in your heart, because denying a love so grand will eventually prove to be futile and leave you feeling broken!

Experience…accept…and enjoy your destiny.  After all, it is YOUR destiny…therefore it is your decision as to whether you will live in fear of it, or open your heart to it’s possibilities.



Below you will find a poem that was sent to me quite some time ago.  The author is unknown, but I would like to share it with all of you.



When you meet your soul mate,

this person will have an instantaneous effect on you.

A soul mate is someone who makes your knees go weak

and takes your breath away.

With but a single glance they lessen your burden,

and but a smile, touch your heart.

You will feel a sense of total connection with this person.

They will touch you so deeply on so many levels

that you will want to share you innermost secrets.

For the first time in your life

someone will make you feel almost like a god.

Once you have met your soul mate, for better or sometimes worse,

your life will never be the same…

One of the things which makes this encounter so unique

is the sense of a profound spiritual experience.

You both feel like this is meant to be

and that you’ve been together before in a past incarnation.

When you meet your soul mate something happens —

the deep yearning, the compelling energy drawing you

to become physically intimate overwhelms many…

Nothing will have ever felt so right…

There’s a sense of safety with this person.

You knowingly let go of your defenses

as a deep empathic bond is formed.

Unlike any other relationships you may have had,

there will be no game playing or hidden agendas, only truth…

There is something about the passion you share with a soul mate

that goes so far beyond just the physical body.

For a moment in time you two are the only

ones who exist in the universe.

Hearts beating in rhythm as your souls

have intertwined themselves becoming one.

Your spiritual energies meld and you feel the flame of creation

move through you like a wave of the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

Soon you begin to lose track

of where you begin and your partner ends…

From within the depths of your exquisitely passionate union,

your soul mate will know exactly how and where to touch you.

It will be different, more intense, and more gratifying

than any lover from your past…

And more electrifying than anything you have ever imagined…

They will look into your eyes

and you will feel your soul open wide.

For some people, there is the “rush”.

All the love, all the lust,

and all the need will surge forth

from your soul like captives from a cage.

At this moment you will know

what it means to get lost within someone’s eyes.

You will experience a realization you have never felt before

and your desire and passion will rise to new levels.

But in the end, as you lay there,

as the warm afterglow begins to fade,

you will realize what just happened was not merely sex.

Sex pales in comparison to what you have just experienced…

To put it simply, your soul mate will be able

to make love to you in ways no one else will ever be able to match…

A Strangers Words

Looking out my car window, I saw her there yet again.  So small and frail in stature, kneeling there in the grass, with her blond hair blowing in the wind.  She couldn’t have been more than seven years old.  Slowing down, I strained to see her face.

There was something about this child that drew me to her, something inexplicable that tugged heavily at my heart.  Could it be that for nearly everyday over the past week that I would see her there at the church, sitting alone in the cemetery?  Or was it how diminutive she seemed sitting next to the charcoal gray headstone in the shape of a cross?  Maybe it was, that to me, she looked like a tiny angel there in the sunlight.  Whatever it was, I could not put my finger on it.

Not wanting to stare or disrupt her, I drove on past today, just as I had on days before.

That evening though, I couldn’t seem to get this small child out of my thoughts.  She lingered there in my mind, and I wondered if I would see her there again tomorrow.

The next day, as I neared the church, I immediately noticed that she was not there kneeling next to the cross.  Without hesitation, I quickly veered to my left and drove my car down the path to where she normally sat.  Still not seeing her, my curiosity took over.  Bringing my car to a stop, I got out and walked toward the cross-shaped headstone.

Upon my arrival, my eyes had plenty to take in.  For beneath the cross, the young girl had placed multiple items, varying anywhere from small trinkets to photos, and what even appeared to be a gently folded note.  Glancing upward I read the engraved stone:

Rebecca Ann Singleton

Beloved Mother, Wife and Daughter

Born April 16, 1980

Died January 12, 2012

It was then that I realized that Rebecca was most likely the child’s mother, and according to the stone, she had only passed a mere three weeks prior.  I couldn’t help but to think of my own children at a time like this.  My heart burned with an emptiness that physically brought me to my knees.  Knowing the love that I felt for my own children, I could not imagine leaving them or knowing that they would have to go on living without me.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and the brisk bitter wind caused it to sting my face with cold until it dropped into my lap.  Looking down at that single tear, I thought of how many tears this child must shed as she sits here in this very same place.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up towards the heavens as I tried to gather my emotions.  Each cold breath nearly burning my lungs as I prayed there for that little girl.

“Dear Lord, please watch over this child.  She has suffered what I feel must be a great loss and she needs your love, strength and passion as she faces the days ahead of her.  Please be with both her and her family.  Hold her in your arms as I wish that I could do each time I see her here.  She has touched me dear lord, and yet we have never met.  I beg of you, keep her safe and show her the way when the road gets bumpy.  In God I trust, Amen.”

Slowly I rose to my feet and placed my hand on the cross.  Just as my fingers made contact, I heard the sweetest voice ask, “Did you know my mama?”

Without turning around, I knew who was standing there behind me.  Panic ran through me as I tried to think of how I could explain my presence at the grave of a total stranger.

Turning to her and finally laying my eyes upon her face, I said “No sweetheart, I did not know your mother.”

Disappointment filled her eyes as she lowered her head.

It was everything I could do not to reach out to her.  Then, without much thought, I knelt down before this small child.  She shuffled her feet and gently wiped her eyes, never once raising her head.  My heart poured out to her, for I could feel her deep pain.  She needed her mother like she needed air.  Without her, she was struggling to survive and each breath was a strain.  I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out a tissue and tried to hand it to her.  With that, she lifted her head and looked at me with an empty stare, never retrieving the tissue.  Her small face was covered with streams of tears, her heart so heavy that I felt as though she may collapse there into my arms. Not knowing what to do, I gently took the tissue and patted her tears away.  Beneath my touch, I felt her body relax.  Between her breaths she sighed, “I am sorry.”

“There isn’t any need for you to be sorry, sweetie,” I told her.  “It’s alright to cry and it’s alright to be sad, but there is no need to be sorry.”

“You don’t understand, no one does.”

“Help me then, help me to understand.” I said.

“I can’t.  I can’t tell you.  No one can know.”

“Know what, sweetie?”

I could tell that she needed someone to confide in, and a total stranger may just be an answer to her prayers.

She stepped past me, bent over and picked up the folded piece of paper that she had placed on her mother’s grave.  I suspected that the contents would enlighten me to the burdens that were on her soul.

I stood there expecting her to hand me the note, but instead, she sat down and then she motioned for me to do the same.  While I did so, she reached in to her coat and pulled out a clear plastic Ziploc bag.  Inside the bag were dozens of folded notes identical to the one that she had just pick up from the grass.  Waiting for her to guide me as to what she wished for me to do, I prepared myself for whatever those letters may contain.

Without a word, she handed me the first note.  Not wanting to overstep my boundaries, I cautiously asked, “Do you want me to look inside?”  She simply nodded, “Yes.”

Peeling back the folds, I was astonished at what I saw and tried quickly to understand.  However, the child did not give me time to grasp what I was looking at before handing me another note from the bag.  As fast as I opened that note, she would hand me another,and then yet another.  With each note, her tears returned and her sobs grew louder and louder.  Thoughts swirled through my head.  Then, without notice she began to throw the remaining notes into my lap, multiples at a time.  Her breathing heavy as she emptied the bag and then threw it into my lap as well.

Screaming out in pain, she shouted, “There aren’t any words!  There just aren’t any words!”

Immediately, I knew what she meant.  There were “no words” to describe how lost she was without her mother.  There were no words that could describe the comfort she had once felt as her mother had wiped away her tears.  There were no words that could describe the pain that enveloped her.  Mostly though, there were “no words” that would bring her mother back.

With an intensity that I have no words for, this child looked into my eyes.  Her stare pleaded for something only her mother could give her, but in an attempt to soothe her, I simply said, “I understand.  Sometimes there just aren’t ‘any words’ that can tell someone just how much you love them.”  Her breathing slowed and her face began to soften as she listened to my words.  “The love you have for your mama is there in your heart.  It is something you know, something you feel, but it is far too big for words.”

Without a word, she reached back in to her coat and pulled out a pencil.  I sat silently watching as she began to gather up the notes.  Then, firmly holding the pencil in her hand, she looked up at me once again, before drawing a single, simple heart on the blank piece of paper.  Her tiny hands then re-folding it and setting it aside.  I continued to watch as she drew a heart on every single sheet of paper.  Upon completion, she put all of the notes back into her clear bag, walked over to her mother’s gravestone and placed the bag down next to the other trinkets.

As she turned to face me, I could see a strength about her now.  Her stride towards me was done with intent, her head held high and her shoulders back, her blond hair there blowing in the wind.  She stopped only feet from me, reaching for my hand and turning it palm up.  Again, I watched in amazement at her each deliberate move.  Reaching in to her pocket, she pulled out a gently folded piece of paper, placed it in my hand, smiled, then turned and walked away.  I watched as she faded from my sight; somehow knowing that she would be fine, I opened my note.

Inside …there was a single heart.