I don’t know why this one is hitting me so hard. 38 years ago tomorrow my mom died. It was the first day of winter – her least favorite season. I remember it snowed – big, heavy flakes the next morning. I smiled big at the irony. Mom always enjoyed pulling a fast one.
Maybe it takes whatever it takes to feel what I couldn’t feel in 1980, one month from turning twenty-one, to now. Maybe it’s of riding of my emotional waves learning to relate with my adult daughter as adult mom and friend, having never been there or done that before – from either angle.
And maybe it’s seeing that damn counselor who, for these few short sessions, has just GOT to keep touching on raw subjects!
The nerve! Thanks be.