Michelle Runs With It

It's a rainy Friday, the one before Mother's Day. I'm at home trying my best to focus on work while also staring at my mom sitting on our couch in pain. Although if you asked her if she was in pain, she may subtly roll her eyes and say, "oh, it's just a little discomfort probably from my bed, the dew point, sitting too long." Then she'll smile. She's tough.  She's also barely eaten anything since she moved in. Every time we eat, or talk about making a meal, she'll muster up some energy and say, "oh, I guess I should have something, too." Whether we cook, warm something up, or order in, she'll enthusiastically agree to whatever it is. Then she'll pick at it, move the food around with her fork, and may take a couple bites. She'll smile.  She's tough. As petite as she is, her weight loss is noticeable. It's really noticeable when I hug her, which I try to do multiple times a day. She's fragile but she'll hold ...