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At fourteen I looked around at life and asked myself is this it?  I pondered this question for a few days, well a couple of hours, okay, okay maybe half an hour, and then I moved on.   Hey I was fourteen, I had things of great import to focus on.  Does it mean Evan likes me when he throws my school beret into a tree?  I’ve got to have those shoes…just got to.  My Dad has to let me go and see that band…or I’ll die.  As I said, things of great import. I revisited the question when I was fifteen, then sixteen and seventeen.  Is this really all there is?  I didn’t dare ask anyone, what if they said yes…it would be too depressing.  It seemed as though this was all there was, but I didn’t need to have it confirmed, thank you very much.  And so I did…

On Thanksgiving day three years ago my mother passed away. I still miss her. She was always there when I needed her.  She came before I called.  She didn’t say much when something serious was happening in my life, or when I was sad, or when I cried, or when I hurt so much I thought I might die.  She was just there with outstretched arms. Loving me. Did I remember to thank her?  If I did, it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. She gave up her life for three months to stay with me during my late husband’s illness, without a murmur, without a sigh.  I didn’t ask, she just came. I never had to do anything to deserve her love.  She loved me because I was her child. Despite the teen years when I must have caused her pain, despite my moving half way across the…

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