Hands and hugs

There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home. A friend of mine told me to click my heels together 3 times and repeat these words - i was so exasperated and desperate to get home; i did it. Blink. I'm home. It took 16 hours to get here but, I'm home.

Why was i gone?

Six years ago today, February 9th, my mother passed away. Every year since, all the sisters (i have two) and my cousin ( i have 1 first), we get together to celebrate and reflect on the crazy spectacular lives lived by our mothers (who passed on waaaaay too early, both at the ripe young age of 53).

I remember exactly where i was, what i was doing and who i was with when i received the phone call. And while that in itself *is* extraordinary. If you really know me, what's *really* extraordinary about the recount of that story are the following three things: 1. I had my cell phone. 2. It was charged. 3. I answered it.

When i reflect on what i miss most about my mother, i miss:

her hands

and her hugs.

until next time...