I can’t picture myself

I can’t picture myself dead. My mother said that to me the other day. Given that she is 89 years young, I was thrilled to hear it! It got me thinking, though. I can’t picture myself dead either, which is a beneficial mindset when emerging from the back end of breast cancer treatment. Normally I’m not a fan of exploring… Continue reading

My mother’s hands

I have my mother’s hands. I usually notice it when I’m brushing my teeth, leaned over the sink, one hand on the counter, the other, well, brushing. When my eyes flicker from the mirror to the drain, then to my hand on the counter top. That’s when it hits me, I have my mother’s hands. They are graceful, slender-fingered hands,… Continue reading