Blurbs

 I'm sitting down and it's kinda slow and I think to myself "I need to call Mom" and a couple of seconds later there's a stab to my heart and reality hits. She's been gone nine years and still my mind won't/can't process this fact. I could tell her anything.  Rant. Cry. Voice unpopular opinions. It didn't matter. She'd listen. Sometimes cry with me. Sometimes telling me what I needed to hear. It was nice always having someone. No matter what, no matter when, no matter where. Miss you Mom.