“I miss mom. I miss her tucking me to bed and reading me a bedtime story. She didn't even complete the previous one.”“Sandra, honey. I miss her ...oo…”“Then why is she not back? I want her to come back. Please daddy, can we meet her on her birthday? I want to say sorry to her. You should say sorry to her too. I am sure that she will agree to come back.”I looked into Sandra’s blue eyes, which she had inherited from Carol and often reminded me of her. I tried to explain to her that her mom was not. More than once, friends had asked her to help with the food for a party. Sometimes,they even invited her to come to the party. Though the occasionalinvitation was usually all the thanks that she seemed to get. Steve didn't notice her cooking much either, even when she made a favoritelike tonight's beef stew."Time I did something about that," she thought. The stew was almost done. She turned down the heat to let it simmer, stirred it one moretime, and went to the table by the door where she. More

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