In the summer of 1975, I was working in the young adult department at the Hyattsville Branch of the Prince George’s County Library. I was pregnant with my daughter Dawn. It was hot. I could barely get my feet in my Dr. Scholl’s sandal.
Things weren’t going as smoothly as I would have liked. My father-in-law was really pissed off about our choice of name for a daughter—Dawn Elizabeth. My mother felt that I had betrayed her by on ur asking my mother-in-law to come for the baby’s birth. And my father was angry that we hadn’t asked Mom to come. I was trying to complete a district-wide photo contest for teens and finish up other projects that I was responsible for. And it looked like the baby might come early [NOT].
I was sitting in the YA area at the branch with my feet propped up on a chair to see if I could get some relief, when a friend tiptoed into the area, put a small piece of paper on the desk, and slipped away.
I picked up the paper and discovered one of the most soothing sayings that I had ever read—“Things Come to Pass, They do not Come to Stay.”
If you know me, you know that is my life’s mantra [along with “Fear Not Tomorrow, God is Already There”].
My friend Sally Thurston had heard the saying at an AA meeting the night before and knew I needed it.
I felt instantly transported to a cool glade in the woods next to a high waterfall, and I could put my feet into the stream.
Dawn was two weeks late. My mother came the week after she was born. And the two sets of parents continued as good grandparents.
Sally Thurston died this week, alone in her apartment. I heard this afternoon, and wonderful memories are seeping in as I try to deal with her passing.
There is a huge hole in the universe this week where the one-and-only Sally once was.
