tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33026160.post1263135748723331056..comments2024-01-27T10:30:40.878-08:00Comments on Grow This: Thanks MomWeeping Sorehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05617503185773155102noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33026160.post-59848704092563349292013-05-12T07:47:48.742-07:002013-05-12T07:47:48.742-07:00I remember when that realization hit me. It was on...I remember when that realization hit me. It was one evening after dinner had been cleaned up and before bedtime rituals began. Mom settled into one of the green chairs in the living room with the newspaper — probably the first time she had sat (excepting dinner) all day. I asked if she would hear my spelling words. (This was the spelling bee years, so there was no end to them.) She gave a little sigh, put down the paper, and said, "Of course, dear." Even as I realized she deserved some time off, I did not recall my request. I am still haunted by my selfishness.Martha in Michiganhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01337334262585721896noreply@blogger.com