My
head lay on the table.
Tears driped from my buring cheeks.
My eyes looked at
the blury representation of my kitchen.
She walked in.
I did not hear her,
but
I knew she existed
and
I knew she was watching.
Her hand went over my tattered hair,
And she set a small
ginger cookie on the table.
I looked up and comfirmed my
instinct.
I looked at her,
Eyes still blurry,
Ever knowing the healing power of a cookie.
Thanks mom.