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Someone very dear to me is living in the past. Not a conversation between us occurs without him remarking how much he longs for days gone by.
If I close my eyes, the images come quickly but oddly so does the smell and while some would argue that you can’t smell what isn’t there, I know I can.
To the editor:
Anyone who knows me–really knows me–knows that the red blood that courses through my veins is actually tinged with liberal doses of white and blue.
It was just about this time of year 23 years ago that I was struck with a fast and unusual malaise.
I didn’t think a lot about it. I was a mother of two, ages 5 and 7, and working two jobs so it was only natural I was always fatigued.
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