I knew this place so well once.
I was taught it was sensible and sane and somehow made some kind of sense, because ultimately we were dealing with Leaders, who were always sensible and sane.
This is a terrible country in which to grow old. Perhaps they all are.
I have stuff I want to have written, and that means I have work to do.
Is my mind more organized? No, it is not!
We need each other. This pandemic, oddly enough, has made that fact screamingly obvious.
I want to take something from this, some lesson, something useful.
When people have dementia, eventually you have to lie to them.
Rage doesn't help. Sorrow doesn't, either. Both reactions are appropriate.
I love you, Mom. Happy birthday.