Tuesday, July 08, 2008


I watch my baby as he sleeps in his crib. He is perfect, an angel. Impossible to think of him as anything but the light of our lives.

I think of my parents. My relationship with them has been troubled for almost as long as I can remember.

I weep for them, my parents. How many nights did they spend watching me sleep in my crib, unable to imagine what lay ahead?


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