A mother's love Stories

Sam and I had been living at Tom’s for nearly a year now, me in the Annexe when I wasn’t away with work which had got busier as we kept soaring our birds into the near heavens and sometimes further. Tonight, I was at the Business Network function at a nearby local yacht club and presented on the topic Small is Beautiful: To The Moon about RocketFactory’s achievements. After the presentation, I mingled for a while, and the...

Is one's essence defined by the age of the body, their culture, economic status, or gender? What are we without the context of time, gender, and culture? Tara's mother underwent a metamorphosis. Mildred wore different costumes of the mind. Each costume was unique, stemming from a different time in her life and drawing upon various life experiences. Alzheimer's disease sponsored Mildred's time travel. Tara remembers Mildre...

The pendulum swings back and forth as time ticks away. Every fifteen minutes its Westminster quarter chimes remind me that sleep is eluding me. Anxiety plagues me while I wait for a chime of a different sort, the first few whistling bars of Kesha’s “Crazy Kids,” which will put my heart at ease. When the phone finally sounds, it startles me. But I can finally breathe easy when I read the words, “Made it home safely. Love y...

"We won't let them call it a break down this time,"  She says,  Wiping imagined stray hairs from my brow.  I want to laugh.  I want to cry.  I want to scream.  Medication is bliss.  I wonder their names.  I cannot control my lips,  Let alone form words.  So, mother you have won. What am I without my words?  My life's time consists of responses,  Under breath and at the top of my lungs,  To you.  I fight for the “I” of eac...