Who am I?

Marcia PurseI’m a writer, a dreamer, a mother, a gardener, a roleplayer, a web designer. I now live in the home I’d wanted all my life – my back yard slopes down to a lake, and as I sit here and work, all I have to do is tilt my head to look out over the water.

I struggle with bipolar 2 disorder – mostly the depressive side – and with money, with back problems, with clutter, with housework, with self-discipline. I live alone. I like it that way.

I have three cats – Lucy, 14,  Cricket, 8, and Buzz, 2. Lucy is black with a faint white necklace and a larger white spot on her chest – thus Lucy Lockett. She has a deep bass purr. Cricket is pewter and obviously has some Russian Blue in her ancestry, and her purr is so soft it can’t be heard, only felt, unless she is up next to your ear. And Buzz is an orange tabby with the loudest purr I’ve ever heard.

I have two grown children – unofficially adopted, the children of my heart. I met them online when they were young teenagers. Brilliant, creative, hilarious and loving, they are joys in my life, the ridiculous dragon and the brooding angel. They have their own parents, but they call me Mommy.

I am Echo. I am Marcia.

Photo: ©2012 by Wendy Purse

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Recent Posts

Twelve

This poem was written by one of my mother’s ancestors. The surnames I know from her family are Godwin, Easton, Falconer and Button. It was written by a woman. That is all I remember.

I don’t want this poem forgotten, so I publish it here.

Twelve

When I was twelve, my sister was sick.
So I made a cross of two straight sticks,

And I made an altar under a tree,
Hidden by brambles so no one could see.

She was so sick – I prayed inside,
“God, make her well” – and my sister died.

 

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