I’m blessed with a special relationship. I have spent 52 years with a spectacular soul who wears the body of my mother. We have laughed abundantly, traveled the world together and survived her breast cancer, the death of her daughter (my sister) and the loss of her beloved home, our family ranch.

She has seen me through tantrums, successes and failures in work, illnesses and the passing of the love-of-my-life, who was a dog.

I have spent a lifetime trying to protect her, from hostile men, McDonalds cheeseburgers, vodka martinis, falls and even old age.

The truth is, I have failed at this, and I always will.

How beautiful is that.

The soul in the body of my mother is here to live her life completely, to exhaust all of her passions, to laugh, cry unbearably, and to die.

She is not my mother. She is much more than that—a soul as large as the cosmos, with a destiny far beyond raising me and becoming my closest friend.

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