They say a mother’s love is all a child needs. No harm could befall an infant wrapped in the safety of her mother’s arms. I wouldn’t know. My mother wasn’t the typical stay-at-home mom. She had better things to do. A welcome addition to any social event, she was the life of the party, regularly waltzing around the room. And like all the other mothers in her circle, she hired help. There was a nanny to take care of my newborn brother, and there was the live-in housekeeper who cooked and cleaned and also had charge of three-year-old me while my mother enjoyed tennis, golf and weekly luncheons.
Every day during my nap, the nanny and housekeeper would have their lunch together, sharing their life stories and gossiping about all the Beverly Hills ladies. I mostly did as I was told, but I would occasionally have a bad dream and awaken in my bed, frightened and alone. That’s when the real nightmare would begin.
One afternoon, awakened from a disturbing dream, I left my bed in search of comfort. I remember standing at the swinging kitchen door, holding onto one of my favorite stuffed animals, a Collie with a sparkly collar and leash. I listened to the chatter on the other side of the door, well aware I was not permitted to leave my room, but at that moment I needed to be held and comforted.
I wanted my mother but would settle for the safety of another caring adult. I…
