I sit next to my mom as she sleeps in the bed. Room 45, bed 1. The window bed, and I have a nice arm chair, angled kinda in kinda out. Her mouth hangs open. In her dreams, she’s a teenager, crying to her mom who yells at her (I remember Grandma J and she could be a yeller for sure).
Where have you gone? Your words are missed!
love you, amigo
Missed you, dude. Loved this.