“This is how it has been between us for the last few years. I know why, but still, it hurts. The joy of having sons is that they worship their mothers. Until one day, suddenly, they don’t. I am not like you, he realizes. We are different. Then, that boy – once small and sweet – begins the long, hard process of separation, until at last he rips the seam. But the holes where mother and son were once knit together remain.”
