I met your mother in the woods. A lovely, childlike woman with wispy hair like an angel so I invited her in for tea. You should be glad you have a mother. I lost mine years ago. One day she was here and the next, G-O-N-E. Her car hydroplaned and ran smack into a concrete wall and that was it, nothing else mattered anymore.
I have learned that some people get everything in life and others cling to what's left. We cling to anything that resembles one ounce of joy. You have no idea all that has been bestowed upon you but I do. Your mother has taken to me during our visits. I braided her hair yesterday and made her muffins, blueberry to be exact, my own mother’s favorite.
Tomorrow, she is coming for tea again and I will tell her about my own mother, how I miss her. I will cry-cry-cry. I will lean on her shoulder and let her know that I am empty. I know she will listen and she will come back the next day and the one after that. You see, my dear, your unstable mother roams the streets, because she needs you, but she won’t need you much longer.