I would have a visitor each month; a tall thin woman, she was my Aunty Eunice, my Mother’s sister. I asked her where my mother was and she said, “She is very sick”.  Aunty Eunice said that she would visit my mother following her visits with me and would tell her all about me.  She told me I had Mom’s big brown eyes and her sweet singing voice.   She was like a messenger   who would bring good news back and forth.   I asked her if she would bring Mom someday when she got better. She promised she would. She would give me a big hug and when she would leave, I would cry.  I missed her when she left - she was so nice and smelled so good and would make me laugh, but most of all it was her hugs. I could not feel them too much on top of the plaster but I knew they would feel good.

The answer to all the questions that were in my mind were somewhat answered in the poem which is the title of my book, “The Baby’s Cross,” written by my Mom. The poem was written after one of the visits to me and then to my Mom, from Aunty Eunice, who had brought the message to her along with the picture.

THE BABY’S CROSS

Her big brown eyes twinkle roguishly.
(As they use to when she chased her cat.)
Oh dear, why did I think of that?

She asked for him today and wondered,
“Did her Saunders miss her while she was away?”

The kitten died but she never knew
The sorrows of childhood should be so few.

Yet-the cast extends from her sturdy shoulders to her knees
And, when one thinks of these, and many other things,
How joyously she laughs, how sweet she sings.

Then when her little story of her wants are done,
She whispers, earnestly, “some day I will run and run, So far that nobody can catch me again".

With a sigh, your heavy heart whispers back-AMEN

By Marjorie-Logan-Willson    to Gale 11/16/36
In memory of Eunice’s visit to My Darling Gale