a mother's work

After a recent visit I wondered if my sons had any idea of who I was

or where they could find me next time they needed me. So I came up with an idea of a map, a list of instructions that would hint at what type of person I was and where I stood in the cosmology of their lives. But in the process, and through time, telephone calls, texts, etc...things changed...

 The art changed.

I'm made to worry. It is what I do best, even though I try daily, hourly, and by the minute to count my blessings. To do anything but worry takes work.