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!
Today, for now, I'm okay enough.
I've never learned what to do with rage.
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.
Whatever or however you celebrate this year, I wish you peace.
I love you, Mom. Happy birthday.