Supposedly, the following day would have a better promise for the day. But it's not.
After the events unfolded last night, I woke up with a horrible headache and worried about not finding Mimi beside me.
It turned out she left early in the morning to let her mother know she was okay. The note she left was scribbled in a hurry. I almost couldn't read it.
Gratefully I was gifted with the ability to read the worst handwriting. My father had terrible penmanship. Mom said it was because he had studied to be a doctor before. He inherited the curse.
That was a joke she thought of to tease my father about his penmanship.
The curse part, that is. My father did study to be a doctor. And he was one for a year or two until something happened, and he stopped being a public professional.
I have no clear story of why he suddenly got a licensure to practice his skills privately. And then he simply stopped.
