We crest the hill, or what passes for one is West Texas, and thousands of red lights blink in utter synchrony.

It is said the bad things come in threes, but it turns out the good ones do too. A lesson well learned on a party cloudy January day.

Was it your fault? What befell her? Daughter, wife, teacher, or mother? How long ago? What could you not say? Did she ever see her namesake? How often do you think of her? And what about the houseplants?

"Mom I have to poop. Bad."
The spike of terror that runs through me is one known well by caregivers worldwide.