Jack of Harts

I left my mom at the hospice on Tuesday. I got home and didn’t sleep a wink, no matter how hard I tried. Then I went to work before returning to a home full of memories. This was the first house she ever bought. The one she purchased because she worked at the Mayo Clinic and any bank would give her a loan based on that. It was her first true home. In a lifetime of renting, she’d never managed to talk my dad into actually buying a place. But he’d left, she’d gotten a degree, she’d gotten a good job, and this was it. The end of her nomadic renting ways. This was home, and she filled it with a lifetime of memories. Family knickknacks and pictures and all the things she wanted around her. Now she will never add another memory to it. And I’m just trying to come to terms with that.