I stood over my daughter’s bed and screamed at her, “Get up, get up, get up,” as she repeated, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” Her reaction seemed absurd. As her mom, I expected Marie to do what I asked. Did she genuinely have limitations? Was she physically unable to get out of bed?
As I squeeze my eyes shut tight, wishing, and imagining life were different -it takes me back to a place and time where I can hear those precious little footsteps making their way to my room. I see her, my beautiful girl, standing beside my bed in her flowing white nightgown. “Good morning Mommy,” the…
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