This morning as my son and I was waiting for his school bus, we were having small talk. As his bus approached I sent him off. One memory struck my mind. It was a time I shared with my mother. My memories with her are embedded because there weren’t many. I was raised by my father. The association came from the love my son has and the Pureness in his soul. I remember my mom frantic. I asked her what was wrong? Could I help? She told me she was looking for money. I’m not sure if I asked her what for. I do remember digging in between the couches, under the couches, and anywhere else my 5 year old self could fit. All I found was pennies. She gave me this look of defeat and compassion and thanked me. It was not enough. I learned later in my adolescence, why we were searching.
To find out why and more look out for my memoir.