I can just imagine


I can just imagine: having made reservations a few weeks ago, I would have woken this morning, with a fresh haircut and made sure that I was freshly shaven. I’d have stopped at the store for a bouquet of flowers and made sure that the ribbon matched what I would’ve tied around a small gift. I then would have driven over to senior housing and rang the bell. When the door opened, before we headed out to lunch, I would’ve looked in her eyes and said, “Happy 88th birthday. I love you Mom.” I miss you Mom. March 15, 1927 – January 5, 1995


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