Mia
Since losing my mom, I notice every little detail of influence she had in my life; from the way I set the table for dinner to the way I braid my daughter's hair. I never realized how much we had in common until all I had left were memories of her. It's a bittersweet feeling. She was so strong, her heart was pure. She was rare.
And here come the tears again.
I grab a tissue and quickly wipe them away. We are already late for our family's New Year's Eve party and I don't have time to re-do my makeup. Torrance steps into the bathroom and smiles at me, but his eyes remain full of sympathy.
"You look beautiful, sweetheart," he says, coming to stand behind me and watching my reflection in the mirror.
I'm wearing one of my mom's simple black cocktail dresses. Her scent
