The winds are flirting with 60 miles an hour. It is all suddenly slip-sliding so fast, once again I think fondly of Mom, and how she used to be. Them, I sadly sigh for how she is now. Her singing has stopped. She had a choking incident recently, and subsequently, a pneumonia. She remains now a cranky, feverish child-like adult... pouting, impatient, sleepy and insistent. Declining offers of music, happy at our initial appearance, but so soon, sullen and tired of the disruption of the routine she clings onto.. If we cannot put her to bed, she has little use for us. Once she is in bed, again, we only bother her by staying, thus keeping her awake. She pursues the escape of sleep almost every waking moment. Food, conversation, and thought only severe as irritants. Where did my bright, sassy,intelligent mother go? Who is this sad and angry, tired child inhabiting her body, and can the real mom ever come back, even for a bit?

I am not a mother. I had all the signs in my youth of one day being a wonderful mother, but I made many foolish choices and children, have since, eluded me.

Thus the rain on this Hallmark Holiday fits my bill, leaving me wistful, and wishing for more, accepting what is, as best I can.