L. L. Morton               Collections / Biography                Third Millennium Publishing

L.L. Morton

Excerpt from First Comes Love

Remembering childhood, for most adults, is like turning on a light in a dark place: illuminating, enlightening, taking away the bogeyman. But to some, like me, the memories remain as holes in the dark, bits here and there that filter through a blanket of a void still echoing terror: Hush, don’t take on so, don’t tell. The windows to the world of that lively, open-minded child are clouded with fear, distorted, and stunted perceptions crystallized, fixing the evolving adult – forever a child.

“Do you remember that day?” I was often asked, even by strangers. “Where were you when it happened?” they would gently pry. I’d try to tell them, when I learned the words, but by then the feelings had gone to sleep. As in a glass globe full of snow, the white lies still around a pretty house. Then out of the blue someone shakes the heavy glass by asking, “Did your mama have little feet, too?” And the snow flies every-which-way. This blizzard of emotion complicates the already difficult task of separating fact from things imagined. However, I have found that fitting the pieces of memory correctly into stories told, though necessary, become less important than the sense of order, of wholeness, that’s generated by ultimately finding a way through the storm.


Readers’ Comments “It made me sad, then mad, and finally glad.”


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Page was last edited on 06/24/11 03:17:24 PM

L. L. Morton

October 1, 2003 - October 1, 2005