Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Everyday I celebrate the beauty that is my wife, the mother of my child. But Mother’s Day make me remember my own mother, who is dead and gone. She would have been in her 102nd year. She was “gone” long before she actually died, he right stolen by the cruelty of dementia. Her dementia robbed her of the way to make the words vocal. Words that I imagine she wanted to say.
The Hands ( and Hiccups) of Time
Lovely, my eyes are leaking.