I received another call from a reporter/ producer today. She was eager, positive and enthusiastic and began the conversation by telling me how much her network/show could bring needed national attention to our situation. As I took her name, office number and some information on her credentials. I thought to myself she sounds to young, to be associated with the T.V. show, she said, she was representing, so I asked her "how old are you" she paused and said "I'm 27, that shouldn't be a problem, will it? You will do the show?" I said " Let me check on your credentials, give me a couple days, I will be in touch, thank you" and hung up, I was in the middle of a meeting with a client and not really in a position to talk and felt the need to get back to what I was doing.
However, as I turned my attention back to my client, my mind began to wander. I had lost my ability to concentrate on his needs, or even on what we had been discussing, I excused myself and headed toward the door, I needed to be alone for a minute.
In 1992 my mother was 47 years old, my sister was 19 years old, and I was 27 years old. I'm now 47 years old, I am the same age as my mother was when she was taken from us, the tears begin to well in my eyes, I feel the frustration in my guts, the anger in my muscles and the hopelessness in my heart, then I feel the tears on my cheeks, as my fore arm reacts almost automatically to wipe the tears more into my skin then off. I settle into the horrible sadness and disappointment.that has become so familiar during the last 20 years,
Then with a deep breath, I re-settle and head back toward the day,
I will do a check on her credentials and return her call.
However, as I turned my attention back to my client, my mind began to wander. I had lost my ability to concentrate on his needs, or even on what we had been discussing, I excused myself and headed toward the door, I needed to be alone for a minute.
In 1992 my mother was 47 years old, my sister was 19 years old, and I was 27 years old. I'm now 47 years old, I am the same age as my mother was when she was taken from us, the tears begin to well in my eyes, I feel the frustration in my guts, the anger in my muscles and the hopelessness in my heart, then I feel the tears on my cheeks, as my fore arm reacts almost automatically to wipe the tears more into my skin then off. I settle into the horrible sadness and disappointment.that has become so familiar during the last 20 years,
Then with a deep breath, I re-settle and head back toward the day,
I will do a check on her credentials and return her call.