Those damn pigtails. I could never get them right. When her mother was alive she'd have them up and ribboned in no time. There seems to be a lot for me to learn without her being here. I must cook more

I felt like a dandelion flower blown apart by a fierce wind the night my mother died. I was shattered and scattered, drifting on a breeze of shock and longing for one last kiss or one last chance to hold