Tuesday, August 10, 2010


Albuquerque, NM -- Days pass in the foggy existence of hospital life. We laugh, we sit, we talk.

They ask mom what day it is, and we all glance at each other, uncertain. They ask her what year it is. I can tell she doesn't know, so she cracks a joke to steal time.

She's stable now but weak. They promise us parole soon.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your plans," mom says.

"I'm sure I interrupted yours a few times over the years," I reply.

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