Purpose gives us the hands with which to drive.
For some time, I reached a point where I did not feel inspiration about which to write between 2016 to 2018. By 2019, I picked up a lot of inspiration. Once I started writing again, I did not slow down. Poetry, followed by memoir drafts, and a rebirth of a YA novel started. Hayes and Corrie were always at the center of my writing.
When I left my former school, poetry started pouring out of me about different topics. I found one about Corrie last night that I wrote in summer 2018. I shared it last night as it was originally written. While I wrote a lot of essay drafts about raising a son with autism and being atypical myself, Corrie was always present in my writing.
I just called it, My Daughter.
I brush her blonde and cherry streaked
brown hair.
I hope the day never comes too soon
when she’ll say, “Mom, I can
brush my own hair.”
I recall wishing she’d keep her fat baby cheeks
and thighs at the time I
made up a song to
“dance with my daughter.”
Almost every night she’d sleep
on my chest when the nurse
told me she needed to sleep
in her own baby bed.
Remember how I cried
in the middle of the night,
so I could love and hold my
baby girl the way I want.
The nurse had taken her
from my arms,
but the baby cried,
and when I held her,
nightmares went away.
I don’t know what to expect from grief, but I know, just as I wrote yesterday, I will continue to write about Corrie in the same fashion people talk about their children. I will continue to brag about my daughter’s achievements. I feel a strong sense of purpose as I journey on through grief to forge her image through writing, so she’s always remembered.
I feel her confidence within me.
Just like my son, Corrie was a person you could not just walk away from. I get this feeling that she guides me. That she wants me to write about her in a certain way. When I get these feelings, it’s delivered in a very Corrie way.
Just as I wrote yesterday in my blog about Corrie and Stevie Nicks, I create a symphony of words for her.
All words are written by Rebecca T. Dickinson. All works copyrighted by R.T. Dickinson 2019-2020.

