I've called her 'Aunt Harriet' for as long as I can remember. Since my folks' deaths, Aunt Harriet's the closest thing to family that I've got. She was there on the day you were born and hasn't seen you in almost eight years. As she speaks, Mom fiddles with my cape. That's another thing I remember about Mom.
Mom has the most beautiful hands.
Not soft, though, and she has one of the strongest, surest grips in the business. She waits patiently. I hang my head in shame. It's hard to tell her. I mean, I love Mom.