My mom would have sacrificed her life for me. She’s like that and I’m apparently not. I sit shaded by palms on a tropical beach while she now tries to adjust with her limited mental capacities to a care home. Her mind’s confused, disoriented, steeped in grief, like a black cup of tea. Mine’s trying to recover from being cloaked in a scratchy blanket of depression. I had too much to lose; my mind, my health, my love. She’s already lost those. Unanchored, she slowly floats away and I wave good-bye.