I was looking at the grassy median in my rearview mirror when the minty aroma of an old front yard came piercing through my windshield. Just up the street lied a little patch of grass lined with mint bushes that used to be my front yard. It was here that I talked to mom about the upcoming last days of Nonnie’s life.

“I need to go to Denver to Nonnie one last time.” She could hardly choke the words through her tears.

“It’s okay, mommer. It’ll all be better when this is over, when she’s out of this pain.”

She began to cry even more, and so when she left for airport I felt a heavy tug on my heart.  One glimpse at my mother that day should have been enough to tell me she had been up all night thinking about pain.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and head towards the neighborhood’s church.

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