Saturday, February 26, 2011

It's been a month. We're close to May, and Mom is no close to better.

Letters come and go. I stay.

Becky and I are at the hospital, waiting to drive Mom back after her appointment.

"You don't have to stay."

"What do you mean? I want to stay."

"But you want to go."

I hear guilt. I don't know if that's what she means, but that's what I hear.

"I do, and I don't. I want to be here with you and Mom."

Her silence means, But you left us before, and I know that I will not be forgiven.

I stay. I knit and I stay.

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