At her appearance my children cheered.
She came with half-moons from the Italian bakery.
She came with toys and hugs for everyone.
She played games and climbed trees.
She promised of so much more to come.
“She must have been fun when you were a kid.”
I looked at my children.
I looked at her.
That was not the woman who raised me.
I looked to the sky to see if aliens were passing bye
– So, they could do that to me.
