I remember being 6 years old and sharing not only a room, but a bed with my mother.
Spending the cold winter nights in her dark warm arms.
Listening to her harsh yet soothing snore in spring.
Falling asleep as she ran her fingers through my thick hair in fall.
Missing her, as the room filled with her absence during the summer, she never stayed in the summer.
I remember being 6 and thinking my life was complete.
