I can be so hard on myself, measuring out the moments with Xir and Anainn by my miserable moods, or thinking of all I could do better, or noticing how much I have let go.
And yet, when I think of my mother, I do not remember moments or moods. There is just an overall continuity of love. And as I contemplate drastic moves and sudden changes, it is good to bear this in mind. This constancy of love is such a simple thing, such a good one: enough to just be there, to try, to keep things going even when all I have to offer is the bare minimum.