1:54 a.m. - 2003-08-02
I want my mommy!
I dont know the even the name of a single person in my appartment complex.
In the appartment right across from mine lives a young looking red-haired woman of an angry disposition who, by her speech, I think is russian. She has a precious little blonde son who I think is about 7 or 8, who has alot of nightmares. His bedroom window faces mine and I can hear him crying for her. His little voice still groggy with sleep.
"Momma! Momma!"
One of the blessid little luxuries of childhood. To be able to call out for your mommy whenever youre frightened, and have her there to comfort you.
