First, some fact-facing from the contemporary woman I most admire, Molly Ivins:
President Bush says it’s a great idea and he’s proud of the secret spy program? Attorney General Gonzales explains breaking the law is no problem? Dick Cheney says accept spying, or Osama bin Laden will get you?
Or might we actually have gotten far enough to point out that the series of high-profile security events is in fact part of a propaganda campaign by our own government?
A Molly Ivins column a day keeps defeatism at bay.
Meanwhile in the little picture, “Snow, snow,” she says as she wanders around her bedroom.
“Yup, ma,” you say. “There’s lots of snow outside.”
She shakes her head and waves her hands, frustrated that you can’t understand her. “Snow, snow,” she repeats. Then she puts her hands to her face.
“Ah,” you say. “NOSE! You want a tissue to wipe your nose, right?”
Right.
More and more often she sounds like a schizophrenic. She knows what she wants to say, but her brain reverses letters, skips to another track, leaves her frustrated and frightened. It’s worse when her pain is worse. The pain makes her cry.
Such are the facts, here, as you put your arms around her and hug her and she kisses your neck. “You’re my mom,” she says. “I love you.”