one of the best and the most painful things about time traveling has been the opportunity to see my mother alive.

I sit quietly and think about my mom. It's funny how memory erodes, If all I had to work from were my childhood memories, my knowledge of my mother would be faded and soft, with a few sharp memories standing out.

I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room

...all of our laments could not add a single second to her life, not one additional beat of the heart, nor a breath.