This time she was much more careful and paid close attention to what she was doing. In fact, she made both cups exactly the same even though I knew sh... never put sugar in hers and much more creamer. She then offered me my cup, again ceremoniously, and watched as I took my first sip. The look in her eyes was hopeful and apprehensive at the same time. It was not until I looked at her and smiled, leaned back and put my feet back up, and sighed happily that she picked up her own. Before she. It seemed a small eternity before the swelling strings signaled the film's end. Mom switched on the lamp, and once more I waited for something, anything to happen. She stood, stretched, then murmured, "Oh, my, it's been quite a day... time for bed, I think." A note of helpless melancholy sounded inside me at the thought of Mom departing for the night, leaving me alone -- and that was when she reached out to take my hand. "Marcie, honey," she whispered, giving me a look I could have basked in. More

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