My father was dead, my mother was losing her mind, and I was adrift with unhealed wounds; a will detoured. My only clear thought was I wanted to compile experiences – lots of them. I was drawn to the grayness of the day. The mist sort of wrapped around my thoughts and allowed them to take hold.
I felt like a boat, smacking the jetty – loosened and free, but also at sea without an oar or any idea where to row.
Cite: The Kinship of Women: A Celebration of Enduring Friendship by Pat Ross