For mommy on Mother's Day.
I had to write about Mommy. It was painful at times. I was conflicted. Can one be open with another's secret? She came to me early one morning. I felt her guiding me, urging me on. Yes, I could breathe life into her story and give her life. Even in death.
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply.
I like to make stuff...and think about stuff.