Our mother, Sharon, was adored. Not only by her family but by anyone who’d ever met her. Everyone in town knew her or knew of her. She’d been homecoming queen of 89′ in her teens and as an adult she was a prominent member of the community. She participated in all our school bake sales and she was den mother to our girl scouts troop. She was the kind of mom that hovered over us while we were studying or doing homework. She’d tell us that we were the smartest kids she knew and that she had high expectations for us…meaning we’d be in trouble if we brought home anything lower than a B+. At the same time, she was also the kind of mom that would let us eat dessert before dinner while we reenacted our favorite stories. Madison and I both fought for her affection. She’d explained to us over and again that she loved us equally, no matter how many times we each accused her of favoritism. Now I wish we hadn’t driven her so crazy with all that nonsense back then. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.