We think of only one person when we're sick...
I remember writing this 5 years ago ... I can't recall when and how it started but it has been like a yearly routine for me and her. Asthmatic bronchitis is what I was referring to --- when I ran a fever, missed school, spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, the incessant coughing, the long sleepless nights, the shaking chills. What I remember the most was my mother. I remember how she served me slices of ripened apple, how pleasantly and deliciously cool each slivered piece tasted sliding down my swollen throat. I remember that she helped keep me on a precise medicine schedule. I remember her concern and worry, her watchful eye and keen ear, her sturdy presence in the doctor’s office as she stood by my side. Now, I am no longer a child, after all. I have being absent in school. I and my siblings were only allowed to miss school if we were running a mean fever or sporting measles or chicken pox. My mother is extremely warm, a bit strict, but gentle — she’s the sort...