Mommy

From 1943 to 1950, Frank spent his summers in northern Montana with his grandmother. He called her Mommy. She was his grandmother on his mother's side. She lived on an indian reservation. She had an old rundown house that was warm and inviting. Mommy would teach Frank how to speak Blackfeet Indian as they did their daily chores. When their chores were done, they would sit outside in the cool brisk air and she would tell him stories of when she was a little girl. They had a very close relationship. Frank looked forward to the end of the school each year. By the last day of school his backpack was stuffed and he was ready to go. He ran home eagerly to be on his way to spend the summer with Mommy. Frank's father didn't like the idea of his only son spending all his summer vacation on the reservation 30 miles away. Frank's mom encouraged the idea, because she knew he would learn so many things that Frank's mother and father couldn't teach him. Frank looked forward to the brisk nights wrapped up in an old wool blanket sitting on the bench in the front yard looking up at the stars and listening to Mommy's stories and lessons.

As Frank lays in the hospital bed hanging on to life by memories, Karina, his daughter, is at the house trying to pack and get rid of trash and other items. She is not sure what is going to happen to the house, but she knows most of it has to go. She and her dad always had a love for books. They would switch books between themselves commenting on whether it was a good read adding their opinions. Her dad had two bookshelves in the office and books stacked up on the top shelf of the wide closet. So many books to go through. Of course, she wants them all but she knows she can't take them all. She is making stacks all over trying to categorize the books. She reached up for another handful when she saw an interesting book hiding behind a stack of hardcovers. This little treasure was an unfinished journal of when Frank was younger. He filled the journal with memories of Mommy.