And while I know I’m not the refined young lady she hoped for as a daughter, she’s been my champion. We visited the local arboretum, haunted our old town, even had a picnic on the porch of our old house. I didn’t know that these days — the early days — were the good days when she remembered where she was, who she was, who I was. And thanks to her, as the child of a person who is getting old, I’m learning to be more patient, more understanding. And every now and then, the mother I know returns for a cameo, then disappears just as quickly.

Source: Huffington Post January 02, 2026 13:00 UTC