My mom had a stroke part 38: An enlightened little ant.

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

And just like that another week has passed, the air outside warmer, young leaves on all the trees, blooms crowding long branches. We’ve reached our third season together.

Spring.

Sometimes I feel like an ant trapped in amber, everything frozen still yet still moving ever so slowly. Toward what, I couldn’t tell you.