mother’s day.

a little night music floats across the water from a distant campground as he pours himself another cup of coffee.  he talks about his mother and I talk about mine.  we smile and drink and reminisce about the past.  our laughter fades into the night and we sit in silence, listening to the sounds of the crickets bouncing off the pines.  another year has passed without the faintest sense of regret.

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~ by Mary Christa on May 7, 2011.

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