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  • Last Thanksgiving she sat ate at the kid's table, didn't talk much and spent most of the day pampering the dog and smoking Marlboros out in the yard. This had been happening for three years now and i had gotten use to us not being and having what we once did. I'd hoped when she came to town that she might be present and at least show up clear eyed for the rest of the family but she just couldn't swing it. I went over to hug the neighbors and on my way back saw her sitting on the edge of the yard, swallowed in another hoodie to lessen the chill of yesterday's or tomorrow's withdrawals. Sitting there with her head locked to the ground and unable to connect with everyone else laughing inside. Unable to apologize for missing the funeral last year. Unable to share any personal good news about recent days or years even. I focused in, preserved our mutual sadness and walked inside, reminding myself about the phrase beyond human aid. And i probably ate some pumpkin pie and wrestled with my daughters.

    We picked her up from the airport yesterday. The veil was gone and her eyes were wide awake, as was her laugh. I had missed laughing with her more than anything else. I realized then that despite my hopes and the phone conversations that fueled them, a part of me had been scared she would still be the same and she would still be sad and grey. Something good seems to have happened though and maybe she can stay this time, even if only for a while.

    Having a mother again would be alright with me.
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