repository for the occasional perambulatory rumination

“She didn’t love me,” the girl said emphatically.

“She did love you,” the mother assured her daughter. “Maybe she didn’t express that love the way you wish she had, but she loved you nevertheless. How she showed her love falls in that other column of things you can’t control: you cannot control how someone demonstrates their love for you, you can only control how you receive it.”

*

“He was a son-of-a-bitch,” she said hearing one of the family legends retold.

“He was that day,” said her mother. “He sure was that day.”

*

As they rode in the boat, the daughter moved closer to her mother, laid her head on her mother’s shoulder, and snuggled as the mother sat upright and unsupported to accommodate her daughter. “Don’t get too comfortable,” the mother said softly to the daughter, “because I can’t stay this way forever.”

*

“This woman,” the man told those gathered at the funeral, “loved her son the best way she knew how.”

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