“Go on! A higher fortune awaits,” she said.
Actually, she had yelled at me. My friend Louise knew about my habits of brooding, of questioning. We were in the middle of the forest. We had met because once again I was doubting everything and thought I had reached another dead end, and this time for real!
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Today I have drawn the Queen of Hearts.
Hm, the Queen of Hearts… that’s me!
All women are queens of hearts.
I wonder how many women do experience to be a lady, a queen?
I wonder. Even as a child I wondered who my mother was. She wore skirts, she had a higher voice than my father and my brothers, she did the household. She didn’t leave the house at 6:00 a.m. sharp for work like my father. She cooked, cleaned and did the chores. What else did she do? She bore seven children, six boys and me, the only daughter. Three boys died as babies. She lived through it. Yes, really, she lived through that? How? I don’t know. She died before I dared ask her, she, this Queen of Hearts, my mother.
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