Thursday, May 31, 2018

time marches on

My mom and Bill are moving Gramma Joyce
into a swanky nursing home tomorrow.

It's time.

It's actually past time;
she probably should've moved a year and a half ago.

Even so,
I feel quite sad about it.

For Mom. 
For Gramma.
For me.
For all of us.

I didn't expect that.

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