I am not a babe, child, or teen and yet the sweet, sweet softness and love of my mother overwhelms me at times. She is gone from this tired earth, but never from my presence. I often feel her around, in the flutter of a butterfly that lands on my arm; tickling my tresses on a windless day; standing beside me in the kitchen, making her infamous breakfasts. I know my mother is with You. I am blessed and we are never alone.