Katy McKenna Raymond  

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    Personal blog of christian writer Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri

    Personal blog of christian
    writer & fallible mom
    Katy McKenna Raymond
    in Kansas City, Missouri


    Katy is represented by
    Rachelle Gardner at
    WordServe Literary

    Read more Katy at
    LateBoomer.net

    Follow Katy on Twitter

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    they don't come back at nighttime like they used to. they don't even necessarily come back when they need fed, or bandaged or sung to sleep. they return randomly, on their own terms, without invitation or insistence on my part. they have no particular needs or demands upon arrival, but i (foolishly) have expectations. i hope they'll rush into my arms to be sheltered, for a moment, from whatever it is they escape. they are escaping something, aren't they? something against which i provide the only earthly reprieve? for today, though, i do nothing but wait, and those furtive activities associated with waiting: cooking, cleaning and counting the hours. tomorrow, my grown-up children fly home.
    Posted by Katy on 12/15/00
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    I've been thinking a lot about truth, the absolute kind. I'm sure there is some out there, and I'm pretty sure it's a limited amount. Some days, though, it's hard to pick it out in a crowd.
    Posted by Katy on 12/07/00
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    Today is my very first best friend's birthday. We were five years old when we laid eyes on each other, in Mrs. Pendergast's afternoon kindergarten class. Mary Beth was playing with the three-story doll house, which dwarfed her, and I was overwhelmed by her tinyness. I was a fragile girl myself, but being the oldest child in my family, I felt big. Mary Beth was the baby of five children, and looked and acted the part. We wore sturdy, navy blue, Catholic jumpers, starched white blouses, and impossibly cumbersome black-and-white saddle oxfords. Mary Beth's miniscule body was lost in these symbols of sameness, but her sparkling expression was anything but uniform. I thought she was delightfully different. Suddenly, this little living doll was tip-toeing toward me, happily interrupting my project involving a huge sheet of manilla paper and a virgin box of eight perfect crayons. And there, trailing around, behind and beside her left clod-hopper was a 24-inch long shoelace, which threatened to be her undoing. And then, she spoke. "Can you tie my shoe for me?" Could I? Interruptions like these were to become the essence of our childhood union. Best friends like Mary Beth are forever calling when you're doing your homework, or coming over when you're supposed to be washing the dishes. She'll want to exchange gifts when you're supposed to be at Christmas Eve Mass, and talk about boys while you're watching Ozzie and Harriet. When she's grown older and less self-absorbed, she begs you to dump your English pen-pal and start writing to her big brother Vinnie, who's in Vietnam, so he won't be lonely. A first best friend doesn't happen often, but she happens with an unmistakeable audacity. Happy 47th Birthday, Mary Beth! You can interrupt me anytime.
    Posted by Katy on 12/07/00
    (1) Fallible Comments • Permalink

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    I find these truths to be self-evident...but, then again, I could be wrong.
    Posted by Katy on 12/07/00
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