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Time with Mom
As every young boy does, I had always thought of her simply as "Mom". She was the ever-present, often invisible force that kept my small world in orbit. If trousers needed mending, they were mended. If they needed washing, they were washed. If they came home in tatters, stained by bleeding knees, they were taken away and the wounds were healed with stinging iodine and a loving kiss. She was always there. She was the hand I held as I took my first steps, the tear-stained cheek I kissed as I...