I turned away from the packing box in which lay the photographic record of a life now gone and gave my aging mother a weak smile. ‘I’m fine.’ Sh... cocked her head as she leaned upon the walker. ‘That’s not what I was going to ask,’ she said. ‘I think I’ve asked that question enough in the last couple of years.’ ‘Sorry. I guess it’s turned into a habit, you know, expecting everyone to ask me how I’m doing.’ ‘People mean well,’ she said, in that sort of way that southern women say ‘bless his. Ever since Carol left the house, I found Sandra growing into a rebellious child, as days passed by. I tried my best to understand her and give her all the love and affection she needed, but there were some things I couldn’t understand.“Mom never cooked. Finish your food and go to your room,” I said sternly.Sandra grabbed her plate and headed to the kitchen. I heard the running of the tap, cluttering of the plates and then the footsteps. “Good night, dad.”After doing the dishes I went to her. More

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