| ROSIE AND ME by Brenda Ross |
| Foreword |
| �� My daughter, Amanda, had preferred being at her ��� father's house, especially when he married the ��� youthful Sophie. ��� "I love you, Mom," she would say, "but you're too ��� serious." ��� Life changes. ��� Seven years later, it is Alex who is serious, as ��� Sophie and he try to cope with four young sons.� ��� When Amanda visits from University it is to my ��� house she gravitates. ��� Amanda stays in bed until noon. I read the paper, ��� shower and do some housework before she ��� surfaces, tousle-haired, sleepy and desperate for ��� strong coffee. ��� But this morning I am still sitting at the kitchen ��� table� staring at the newspaper in disbelief when ��� she appears. ��� "Mom! What's the matter?" ��� "She used to be my best friend." ��� "Has something happened to Rebecca?" ��� "No," I said. "Her name was Rosie." ��� "Who is Rosie?" ��� I push the obituary pages across the table ������������������� HUDSON, Rosie (Bonneau) �������������� (Nietszsche)(Piozzi) nee Forrester ���������������������� passed away suddenly at ���������������� Brookfield Rehabilatation House ������������������ in Mission, B.C. on July 7th. ������������������� There will be no service. ����� She would have appreciated donations to �� any Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Program. ��� "What a bunch of bull!" I yell. "Rosie would have ��� wanted a� flashy funeral with masses of flowers." "How come I've never heard about her, Mom?" ��� "She changed." I walked over to the window. My ��� neighbour was next door mowing his lawn. Life ��� was going on as usual. "I changed too. We both ��� changed." ��� I tried to hold back the tears. "Our friendship ��� disintegrated. We drifted apart but I never forgot ��� her." ��� "I don't know what to say.� Do you want to talk ��� about her?" ��� "I'll be all right." ��� "Is there anything I can do?" ��� "Well . . . " I hesitated. ��� "Anything, Mom. Really." ��� "Over the years, I have written several pieces ��� about Rosie and me. Just a few memories of the ��� times we spent together between the ages of two ��� and sixteen." ��� "Really, Mom. That's awesome!" ��� "Would like you to read some of them?" ��� 'I would love to." ��� "Well, there are quite a few and they are in no ��� particular order." ��� Amanda read a couple and took copies of the ��� rest back to University. copyright 2001 Brenda Ross � |
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