In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Life’s a Candy Store.”

My mom died of Cancer in 1991 and to me, the best BLAST from the PAST to feel like a 6 year old on a perfect day would be to be with her. To wake up in the bed she had made up the night before, eat my favorite breakfast which she could cook better than anybody and hear her singing old time Southern Baptist hymns that she loved. She did this after working 3rd shift as a registered nurse. I think the old adage  “we never know what it’s like till it’s gone” reverberates here. While she was alive I took all this love for granted. I can honestly say that I was a spoiled only child who thought she was born to serve me! Growing up I rarely remembered her birthday and now she is gone I never forget. Why are we like that? Maybe is just me.

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