I strut to her, contemplating what I will do. My mind is pre-occupied with her, with her overwhelming beauty. I could stand here forever gazing at her...lost in her. When she looks up towards me the recognition is there. The whole world is here, nothing exists outside of the parcel of beauty at my feet. I move behind her lifting the quilt and place it over my back. She leans slightly into me and my hallucination now takes form.Her hair has nearly dried. I rake my fingers through it, stroking. My father died when I was eight years old leaving my mother alone to raise six young children. There were three boys and three girls, and I was stuck right in the middle, I wasn’t the oldest and relied on to take-charge, nor was I the youngest and looked after as the baby. I was just there in the middle and somewhat forgotten.My mother tried (on her own) for a few years to raise us and as far as I was concerned, she did a pretty good job. But my mom thought there was something missing.My mother. More

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