My Mother always used to call me sugar blossom. I’m not even sure what a sugar blossom is. When I was growing up, we didn’t have Google to run to. Now my Mom is in the throes of Alzheimer’s, which quite frankly, I wouldn’t wish on my worst fucking enemy. It is difficult to watch, difficult to think about, just plain difficult. I usually don’t even bring it up, never mind write about it. But something about the word blossom inspired me to do so. My Mother is the kindest, gentlest person I have ever met. She never had an unkind word to say about anyone. In the midst of these brutal days where the societal knee jerk is ripping everyone to shreds, while judging them mercilessly, we could use more people like my Mom. Thankfully, the Alzheimer’s has not changed her personality. She is still that gentle soul. Laughing, hugging and kissing all of the aides at her nursing home. She dances to Sinatra and eats ice cream with delight. And some days when that window to the past fleetingly appears, she remembers me just a bit, the kindest, gentlest woman I’ve ever met.