Mom

When I was little, my mother was my world.
In elementary school, I thought that things had changed, somehow.
In Junior High, I knew that she didn't like me very much.
In Senior High, I no longer liked her.
In college, we spoke occasionally.
After that, we hardly spoke at all.

After I moved out of state, and thanks to my Lord and Saviour, we reconciled. There were no admissions of guilt. Just an understanding that things shouldn't be the way they had been in the past. We spoke. We loved. She was my mother again.

And now that she's passed away, she is once again my world.