Late Night Toast

I've often pondered, without conclusion, the question "Can one who is born blind truly miss color?" I believe I have the answer. It is yes. For I was born and raised without the benefit of parental love, and yet I miss that which I never had. With mom's passing, I have lost every opportunity to win her love and affection, and that is my deepest sorrow in this grieving process. Mothers, by nature, are suppose to love their children. She did not. I can't fix this, can't soften it's affect on me or explain it away.

And so, I sit here tonight, drink in hand, listening to a Keith Urban CD; singing along with the lyrics.

Don't you know

Nobody drinks alone

Every demon from your past

Every ghost, every memory you've held back

Follows you home.

Nobody drinks alone.

I am not alone tonight. I have plenty of ghosts, demons and memories to keep me company.

We all raise our glasses and say, "Here's to you Mom!"