in her hand

while sorting and packing i found this note in my mom’s handwriting.
i love how she appears this way when i need her most.

when she would take a bubble bath, she’d balance her white wine on the edge of the tub.  as a child i’d hang out with her in the bathroom, never wanting to leave her side.  she’d talk casually to me and sip her wine as the ice clinked against the glass. i was not intruding on her time… i was silent and invisible. i had learned to be that way. i was simply the energy that flowed through the room, only wanting to be near that endless supply of mother love.  water would rise and fall over her breasts with each breath and laugh. this is what i learned by watching. this is what it means to be a mother.

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