I hate resting, I want to run. Instead I find a little quiet place inside of myself and silently scream. Just a short little muted wisp that catches in my throat and threatens a tear.
A solitary drop, sneaks out of the corner of my eye and lands on my pillow. A sign that hope still resides within.
That is, perhaps, the most poetic thing I have ever read. It effected me deeply ... and I, too, shed a tear.
@bluerinse ... thanks for taking care of Marg. I know she's your daughter ... but so, too, is she our friend. Followed.
Quill.