My hair’s a teardrop. It’s an all-around teary morning, cuz I had to transfer Mom back to Ron’s safekeeping. I just bite the silver bullet Cufflinks o’ the Day, and put on my big girl Bow Tie o’ the Day, and attempt to muddle through. These days, every time I say my goodbye’s to Mom, she looks tinier, thinner. She feels more fragile to me when I hug her. One day soon, I’ll go to hug her and she won’t even be there– in more ways than one.