The View from a Drawbridge

The random musings of a bridgetender with entirely too much time on her hands.

The Letting Go

The View from a Drawbridge

When my mother died, I hung on to this bottle of deodorant she had given me until long after it had been used up. Because she gave it to me. I think I got it into my head that getting rid of that bottle would be like losing my connection with her. I just couldn’t …

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