A woman sat across from me on the train this morning who looked so much like my mom that I couldn't help staring at her. Her hair-- the color and style... her clothes, glasses, profile, build, skin... the way she crossed her arms over her body, gripping her left wrist with her right hand as she sat in thought. The deep creases on either side of her mouth. The constant smirky-smile. Her eyes.
It was jarring, to say the least. I wept silently, contemplating saying something to her, explaining why she'd already caught me looking at her multiple times.
But... I didn't. Because then it would be about me, and then I may not be able to make the tears stop, and I wasn't sure I'd even be able to get the words out without totally losing it.
So, here I am, sitting at work after being transported back to the time when my mom was still alive, when I could feel her soft, tight hugs, when I could smell her scent, when I could hear her voice. Her laugh.
Happy Thursday, all...
And, welcome to the blog.