Hand-stitched quilts of old in every room; the love in them will never wash away or fade. She “touches” my hand whenever I touch her works.
Charlie and Momma are no longer on this “level.” I still experience that stage of separation when loved ones of many years are only temporarily away. Memories refuse to fade, instead, come alive, vividly stand out to take my breath away with a knowing pain in my solar plexus that beg a tear. Yet, the memories offer joys of the past.