I laughed and pushed her down on the table and pulled up her small skirt. She screamed for me to stop and I put my hand over her mouth. I picked her...up off the table and dragged her into her own living room. I asked her if she wanted to do this the hard way or the easy way. She looked around frantically and finally relaxed her body. I lifted my hand off her mouth. I pulled her shirt off over her head. She had beautiful large breasts and I grabbed one and put the other in my mouth. She. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there’d always be more.But then my mother died, and on that clear summer’s night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn’t any more.Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away ... never to return ... So ... While we have it .... More

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