“You’re still laughing,” Rosa told me this afternoon.
“I can’t help it,” I replied, giddily.
I had been down to Ferret’s campsite only to find a broken tent and a damp, long extinguished campfire. I wonder if Ferret must have a home. He certainly hasn’t been staying down at the river lately. I walked home and opened my back door to find Rosa sitting in my den with Maggie in her lap watching the television. She has learned I never lock my backdoor.
“What’s going on in schizophrenia land?” she asked me as she sat petting Maggie.
I walked in and pulled off my backpack and fleece pullover.
“Oh, I am having one of those giddy days where I laugh goofily at everything.”
“I love you when you get like that.”
“It worries me, but I can’t help it,” I replied.
“Read this,” Rosa then said handing me a hand written letter.
I took off my glasses so I could read better and was enthralled by what I read.
“She wrote you back!” I exclaimed, looking so excited after reading the short letter.
“That’s my little girl,” Rosa said, proudly. “And I have you to thank for it.”
The letter from Rosa’s daughter was very kind, but cautious. I can only imagine hearing from a mother you haven’t talked to in years, or a daughter for that matter. It was one small step to them getting back together. I felt overjoyed at Rosa’s good fortune and smiled gleefully at my part in this endeavor.