I saw your mother last night. She was young again, probably your age.
It’s unusual that I dreamt of her. I try to sometimes, but when I do I can never see her face. Sometimes I can’t even see her face when I’m awake. It makes me feel so guilty.
Last night I saw her face. She was so young and happy and proud. She was holding Laura, and she kept saying she couldn’t believe she was a grandma. Neither can I.
I miss her. I need her. I hope she visits again tonight.
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