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Responding to my Mom

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Breathing deeply; the sound of my lungs inhaling and exhaling...; my lungs swelling comforted me in my stunned silence. It had been years; too many in fact to count. But I did. Four... Five... Do I dare respond?

After all it's been eons. Too long for a mom never to write back from each letter;to ignore each plea for a voice again. Then again; the woman IS my mom. There is no getting around it.I think she deserves one more second chance.

My face was pale in comparasin to the glow of the screen and my hand rested on the keys as if waiting on my decisive conclusion. The summer days at the beach,the fall days spent on the apple orchard, (You liked the Macoun) sledding down our measly excuse of a hill, or sitting outside watching for shooting stars until we could see the sunrise at your favorite camping hill. These were now only memories; there is no replacing things that you could only look back to in the solem, morning, loss. I even miss the times that I was told by you to clean out my 'pig-sty' of a room. At least I had someone to tell me; we all know Dad's not going to do it. A giggle and then a tear.; I miss you, Mom.

I quickly focused my attention back on to my anxious fingers and tucked my hair behind my ear... and started typing.

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