Awhile back I wrote of the ease and sweet memories of loving little sons. Loving grown-up sons is more complicated. Maybe not so much the loving as the letting go. Their adult lives have been shaped by experiences I have not lived and do not understand. They have wives and children, careers, friends and activities …
When I read Gone With the Wind, I totally pictured my mom as one of those gorgeous, genteel, southern belles… skilled in every social grace. Once the kids in my class asked me if she was an actress because she wore sunglasses to a parent-teacher conference… and in today’s parlance, she looked smokin’. She greeted me after …
The last few days have been a little prickly. While I care for another's mom... ...my own was 600 miles and a snowy mountain range away in a hospital bed. And Dad... well, he just doesn't do so well without Mom these days. He called each evening sounding lost. My sister found him one night eating …
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