A few years ago, my mother mailed me a poem she'd written to me when I was approaching my teens. "I thought you'd like to have this," she scrawled across the top of the paper. I'd forgotten all about that poem until recently, when I was cleaning out my files (we're getting ready to move - more on that another time. All I can say now is that it is a MAJOR pain in the ass undertaking, not to be taken lightly). I must not have been treating my mother very kindly. At 11, I thought I knew a lot. (I knew nothing). My mother constantly embarrassed me. I thought she acted too young for … Click to Continue Reading
