My mother is 88 and not nearly as dynamic as she once was. The ravages of life are taking her slowly, which I find painful to watch. She's a shell of who she was.
So, honor your mother on Mother's Day. She, once, wiped your ass; paced until your fever broke; agonized when you stayed out too late; mourned when you left and hoped for a call, when you were too busy. She deserves it; you gave her hell; and she'll remind you of it today, with stories that make you uncomfortable, such as the time you crapped in the bathtub and they put a photo of it in the family album.
"We all laughed until we cried. Look, here it is."
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