I do have memories of my mother and even vague ones of my family but it’s my beautiful mother’s face I see in my dreams... and in my nightmares.
As much as I love remembering her, I dread it too.
What happened that day was so unexpected..so sudden and so horrifically violent, that those terrible memories were interwoven with the good ones, as though an ink pot had tipped over..spilling bright red blood instead of ink, forever staining the memories of my mother’s face.
The feeling of being held in her arms as she stroked my brow gently, her soft motherly touch.
I felt...