I've been thinking a lot about my mum lately. I've just remembered that later this month, it will be sixteen years since she died. She was only sixty and I'm getting on for that. I can't help wondering.
I've been dreaming about my mum too, and very strange, unsettling dreams. I think of all the nice things I would have liked to have said to her. And I think of all the other sort of things, the ones I couldn't possibly talk about even now. I can't talk about them. That's why I have my blog. It allows me to record some of the conversations I have in my own head.
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