Little Judy

This is the Little Judy, the orphan inside.
I am hearing the panic of the others on the phone, echoing my own, worrying about doing the right thing, panicked that Barbara-mommy won't be there, scared I can't do it right, scared that I will lose the attachment, the connection, or not have the connection i crave so badly.

I am shocked at the leap of faith that it takes to hang up the phone while I do this writing.  Again, the loss of connection, the fear of abandonment, the terror of being without a lifeline, taking something on faith, being in freefall.

Memories-- the loneliness of being left on busy Hertel Avenue, near a buidling iwth yellow bricks, actually pushed out of the car, when I was able to stand and walk, but not understand. Feeling bewildered.  Seeing a man walk toward me, being aware of his height and my shortness, haivng to look way up at him, not anyone I kn ew, asking me if I was okay.   My 2-3 year old self reassured HiM, that I was all right, that my mother was just driving around the block and that I was sure she would come back for me.  She came back, but what was all that adult anger about? How bad can a 2-3 year old be?

Worrying that my mother would never come out of the hospital, seing her in teh window when I was 2, worrying that my granndmother would disappear, be swallowed by the hospital's giant mouth of an elevator.

Why doesn't anyone love me? take care of me, delight in me, listen to me? help me feel valued and safe? Who is supposed to do it? Where are they? Where am I and where am i supposed to me?