She sniffles, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand before folding up the rest of a gossamer sheet.

MoOoOom,” I whine. “I’ll be fine. There will be BIRDS! And DOGS! It’s going to be so much fun.”

“I know,” she says with a soft smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, because all she can think about is how much I will miss Her.

“I know your family and friends will care for you well.” Already, she can see the faces of the many mentors and givers and receivers who will cross my path as I forge…

Aisling (“Ash”) Rowan

musings from a wannabe Irishman

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