It's not that we haven't been doing things. Crazy things like Little League. And the beach. And the pool. And sailing. And reading. Try The Paris Wife, Clara and Mr. Tiffany and 1,000 White Women. And, to be honest, Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter and of course, I read those shades of grey. Ridiculous.
But I've been thinking about this space and finding a voice again. I miss my mom every day. Some days I'm mad at her. Some days I just miss her. Some days I understand and other days I'm just like Suzy and don't have a clue. It's a dull ache that you get used too, but sure wish it wasn't there. I'm not old enough to not have a mom.
But who is?