Another early memory is kind of foggy, but Mom took me to someplace out in the country and I got to ride on a pony or small horse. I don't think I was quite two yet. It was fun but kind of scary.

The earliest memory I have of Mom is from when I was one year old. She was ironing clothes in the basement, and the doorbell rang. I had gone down stairs and crawled under the ironing board. Mom went up to answer the door, she must have been talking to the person that came over. I was trying to unplug the iron to turn it off, the cords were draped over the board and I didn't think I could get out without pulling the iron down on me. I didn't grasp yet that the iron wouldn't cool off right away. So I kept unplugging one cord, ansd putting my hand up by the iron, feeling it's heat. I'd put that cord back together and unplug another. (There were a couple of extension cords.) On the third one, my pointer finger slipped between the prongs of the cord. Standing barefoot on wet concrete, needless to say I had my own "Ben Franklin Key On The Kite String" moment. I was standing there screaming and frying, when someone in uniform came downstairs followed closely by Mom. Mom reached to grab me, and whoever the guy was slammed her up against the wall and kicked the cord off my finger. It was not a forgettable experience. Mom carried me upstairs and ran my finger under cold water in the kitchen faucet. It had been seared to the bone. The scar is still there.

It's been awhile since I've been here, I think I just needed to let myself grow used to that she's really gone. That the number in my cell phone memory goes to someone or something else. I keep thinking of her, and remembering. I guess it's time to share some of those memories, a little at a time.

Kat - to answer your question, Saren says she woke up on the other side. Saren tells me that when someone goes through a passage like that, they are "asleep" on the other side for awhile while the guides work on them. Not sure what that means, but I know Mom had a rough ride out...

Dan