Another for Mom…

When I was a child, I was quite the clumsy kid. My Mom can attest to how many dishes, vases, and precious porcelain fell from my fingers. I never remember Mom mad. Instead, I would come home from school to find a new cross hanging on the wall as you walk in. The pieces looked familiar, just the broken parts glued back together into a different design. Now as an adult, my butterfingers still get the best of me from time to time (or most of the time) and with a smile I say, “another cross for Mom.”

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