I walked calmly uphill from countryside into a small town intersection much like Hinckley. Autumn in full swell with deep, rich colors. Jack 'o lanterns and squash and scarecrows and straw hay abound in peoples' yards and on the streets.
My family moved forward ahead of me; I was comfortable taking my time on foot. As I walked on the right side of the road, a black woman with short dreads, dressed in a city style, appeared walking on the left side. She made her way uphill to a storefront, and I heard neighbors' whisperings about "Isn't that the editor of _______?" A famous print like Vogue or Elle. I was intrigued about her visit to this small place. In the windowed door of the store, I saw a bright-blond Abby, of about 4 or 5 years. As the woman approached she greeted Abby, who responded by introducing herself, then her brother Ben and sister Erin, the latter two out of my sight. The woman said she thought the name Erin sounded familiar, and Abby told her it was because she had met Erin a few years earlier. I never stopped my slow amble. I felt happy. To my right I came upon a child of 3 or 4 standing alone at the end of the driveway at the side of a house I don't recognize. She was wearing a dress and had bright red, almost orange hair and blue eyes. It was me, and I knew myself. I smiled, walking, and then decided to stop for her. I knelt down in front of her and looked in her eyes and asked whether ours were the same color blue, to see if she noticed that we were the same person. She said Yes, Because I'm you when you were little. Want to see a photo of Mom? She ran inside without waiting for a reply.
I woke up, so impressed by the little girl who was quite confident, independent and beautiful. Also by the fact that my mother let her so near the road without supervision...I continue to feel protective of her, upset that she never saw this life coming, and I want to right things for her.
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