She leaves and says . . .
Mama, I love you.
I love you too, baby.
And I do, both with all and more of my heart.
The other one leaves later and says . . .
Mama, I probably won't see you tomorrow.
And I say . . .
Why not?
She hugs me, inches taller, and strokes my hair. She laughs at me and says . . .
Mama, you have to get used to not seeing me every day.
To which I say - and mean . . .
Says who?
