We're doing this for your own safety."She sniffled softly, and then looked up at me with some serious Bambi eyes. "Don't you think I'm sexy?" What?" Y...u don't think I'm sexy!" With that, she burst completely into tears,sobbing loudly. I didn't turn back to look, but I thought I could just hearsome high-pitched laughing again."Oh, now, Sweetie, you're very sexy." She sniffled again and looked up."I am?" Of course you are, but I'm a married man." She looked confused for amoment, then over at. When Mom died, I was a budding violinist. The night they buried her, I locked the door to my room and I played my violin, every sad song I could work up, and that night I determined that I was not doing credit to her memory with that level of skill. Love, yes. But something clicked and I decided that those evenings that Mom sat there as my beginner's screeches slowly turned into identifiable music, those evenings that she sat through my recitals, I didn't have much to give back to Mom, but. More

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