I was woken far too early this morning by my bouncy seven-year old daughter, desperate for me to open my Mother’s Day cards and presents. While I wanted a lie-in, it felt exquisite to feel so loved and remembered. I felt special.
A couple of days before, I had debated whether to send my own mother a card; debated, because she has dementia and denies ever having had children, and wouldn’t know who the card was from anyway.
My daughter said to me: “Will she remember us?” I said: “No, but Continue reading