Shovels on memory scrape against the hard-earth childhood dig attempts to sheathe buried frost of the past. But instead of jewel, I'm hoping to find just one warm memory; one good moment that doesn't leave a scar. I'm seeking through huge field, knowing that everyone around me—everyone I've ever known has their own secret fields, with their graveyard. That awareness of everyone else's hidden inner world is overwhelming. But it's the idea of my mother that really keeps me digging. Mother... the word itself should meant to cradle heart in lullabs, but lingers with truths left unsaid.