I just wrote about Independance Day on random redhead, and an interesting thing happened. I've been mostly dwelling on the earlier years, but we moved away during the 4th of July, and I discovered that at some point my neighborhood went from wonderful to Hell. I know (intimately) the details of my growing up, but while I was busy doing it, I didn't notice the attitude shift. It was really shocking when I re-read what I had written, and realized that I did see that street as Hell. I don't think it was the rape, or the fights, or any one thing. It just kind of grew. Each new thing altering my way of seeing my world, until it became a place of darkness.

I don't want to dwell on that too much, I might make it mean something. I wonder, though, if that's how my Mom went from being a walking ray of sunshine, to the embittered woman she became.
When she developed breast cancer, I saw a lot of her old self come back. You can't fight off cancer from a place of bitterness or despair. You have to let life light you up, and she did.

Thanks, Mom, for being who you were in my formative years. Thanks for finding that again so I can still have you around.