I see you in your scarf in the desert, the beer in the one hand and a smile on your face; your oh-so-lovely face. You are the first woman I will love, and the first you can never lose. I see you in the bed now, your silver hair haloing your sallow face. My mind hurts at the thought of losing you. Then I hurt more and the realization of the self-centeredness of mine own anguish. I hurt on the top-layer for myself. But as I think hard upon it, I know I hurt for you too. I think 'I hide the pain I feel for her or she shall know I know her pain, and that will cause her more pain.' I know I can hide my pain from you, we have danced like this before. Remember the wood floor in the living room, taking off our shoes and dancing in our socks so we could twist easily. You showed me how to mash potato and hand jive. Then, you put on some Linda Rostadt and pulled me close. We danced for the whole song. At the end, you curtsied in your polyster pants and I bowed to you in my brown corduroys. The Nurse sticks her head in and asks me to step outside while he checks your staples. I get up to walk out and look at your right hand. How many times had I seen you cock that arm back to take a swing at me or my brother. Heh, too many times. I watch as the arm pulls back with your broken wooden sandle held tightly, wondering for the umpteenth time again who drilled those holes and who taught you to make the sandle wet for the paddling? Time freezes and I wish again to be anywhere but here. Then time cathes up, I don't even see the paddle move forward. There is just a lifting sensation then a very hot pressure in my tushie. Time caught up with a passion. The nurses hand on my shoulder startles me. "You may go back in", he mumbles. I re-enter and see you in pain again. I know there is nothing I can do, at that makes me angrier. You raised us alone to be strong and intelligent, and I sit here now wanting to cry and am too stupid to help you in any way. You have failed Momma, or maybe it is just me, I have failed you. I do not feel strong or very smart right now. I just want someone to let you be okay and come home again. My own children are waiting for me back at my own house now. I cannot show them how much I hurt, I want THEM to grow up big and stong and smart. I do not want any weakness around them and shall show them none. I love my children and pray that I do at least half as good as you did raising me. I pray this because I know even half of the love I have for you, to receive from my children shall keep ME happy till I am the one in the hospital bed. You have tried to be all things to me Momma, Father, Mother, Teacher, friend, And I love you so much for it.