By Grace Jasmine
I woke up that morning with a delicious feeling of planning. Full of bright ideas, I walked to the coffee pot. It was Easter vacation for my daughter, so she was still fast asleep, her sweet face looking cherubic above the edge of her blanket, her small, graceful arms stretched out above her head in total relaxation. I stole quietly through the silent house and opened the front door to grab the paper. There was plenty of time for a couple of cups of coffee and some planning before Daisy began the sing-song of little girl secrets that always accompanied her personal good morning to the world.
I was planning for my mother. In fact, I had woken up with my mother on my mind. She had been in a lot of pain lately; a disc problem. Something so painful, she described it as like having a…
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