After You’ve Gone

After years of mutual bickering and shirty jibes, I view my mother Syb and I as being very different.  I am like my Dad, I think to myself.  But at a ripe old age Syb dies and I come to the very shocking realisation that …

I am my mother.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.