Taxes. What a bitch and that's all I have to say about it.
I had a dream about Rachel the other day. I dreamt I walked up to the house where she was staying-a half-way house in Lakewood, California with a long entry way. Rachel opened the door and stood there in a towel around her body and a towel wrapped around her hair and said "Mommy, what are you doing here?" And I said, "I just wanted to see you." Then the alarm went off and I woke up. Dreams are a gift. She was pretty and Rachel and I saw her, again, and I rarely see her anymore. There are not enough photos or videos to last. There are never enough memories. I read in the paper about a couple who lost their boy and they said they have spent the last twenty years looking for him. That's how I feel.
Some times I look in the crowd of people to see if anyone looks like Rachel. I went to the LA Art Museum last week, and spent a lot of time looking to see if Rachel was in any of the paintings.
None. I only see her in my own face, and my face is old and lined and not pretty like her. Sometimes, when I see Keturah from a distance walking, she looks like Rachel from the back. Where are you? Where are you?
It all seems pointless sometimes.
Another Dream.
I dreamt that Rachel was visiting me each night and she was far away beckoning me to come with her. I refused, "I can't, I have your sisters to think about". Each night, she would come a little closer and this dream reoccurred over several days. Still, I would refuse. Finally, I agreed and came as close to her as I dared, I was immediately angry because I thought she would open her arms and welcome me and she didn't. As I got closer to her, I noticed she was holding a baby, and could not embrace me without dropping the baby. And then she was gone.
I woke up, and knew immediately that the baby was Megan, my sister's baby who was stillborn 19 years ago. Megan got a mommy to take care of her, and Rachel was taking care of her with pride and joy and love, just like she did Jacob.
Oh God, life is too long.
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