Where does time go?
Mom looks old. I don’t like that.
My mom will die one day, leaving me with no more second chances to make things right.
I saw a different side of Dad today.
Sweet. gentle side.
After remembering yesteryears, I said, “I had a happy childhood, Dad.”
My dad said, “Good”.
Have they changed?
Or has my alleviated depression expanded my depression?
Perhaps both. Then again, it doesn’t matter.