This is a little glass sculpture I did of a monkey holding a baby monkey. If you look closely, you can see the baby in her lap. As I studied the finished piece, I realized that once again, my art had uncovered something that was lurking inside of me.

My mom is in hospice. My brother died of a brain aneurysm a number of years ago. One day, my mom told me, "I want to see Bubba again, but I don't want to leave you." A mother's heart is a deep and complex thing. I knew what she meant. She knows that I am cherishing each day with her, while at the same time, holding her loosely. I don't want her to feel beholden to me. I tell her I will be okay and not to worry. But, she does.

The love my mother taught me, is the kind of love I try to infuse into the stories I write. Real love exists. It is flawed and ragged, at times even ugly, but it can be found. For the first time in my life, I realize truly appreciate who my mom is. I admire her courage and also her ability to be honest on tough days. She is teaching me to accept life as it is. I am thankful.