Time is a thief in the night for while we sleep, the clock ticks and our bodies age, memories like postcards of all the places and people filed away in our dreams.  She looked at me the other evening…her hazel eyes watering and as she looked up from her glass she wondered out loud what would happen if she died too soon?  She would never get to celebrate all of my achievements, my joys.  She concluded that she just must not die just yet, and I assured her that I was pretty positive her spirit would follow me long after her physical being was gone.  Time is a thief in the night and try as hard as we do, there is no barring the door, no slowing of the clock, no remnants of youth to hold onto for long.  The passage of time does, however, prepare us for the evolutionary stages of our lives. Where once she ran back and forth to dressings rooms for me, I now do the same for her and every other “mother” who peeks cautiously out of the door, asking if this color is right, is it too long or tight……it makes me happy when they smile and off I go into the maze of designers to find the right piece which will make them smile as well and feel beautiful. I order lunch for us both as she can’t hear well above the diners, and guide her through the menu as she once did for me.  Like a thief in the night, time plucks ever so tiny pieces from us until one day, we look in the mirror and realize we have been robbed.  Perhaps time understands far more we do; like the Carrousel we watched this afternoon.  Around and around we dance on painted horses moving in perfect rhythm to the sound of the music. We laugh and wave, smiling at the brightly colored lights until, ever so softly, the carrousel slows to a stop and it is time for us to leave.  I file away the moments as I know she does now, trying to hold tight to the very essence of love before she is not there to remind me, and give me cause to laugh.  I love you Mum.