When I was 5,

She would stroke my hair while tucking me in bed.

Now I'm 15,

And I will stand with her as she struggles to remember our names.

I have a brush she gave me when I was five.

The mirror on the brush cracked, just like she did.

She fixed it, but the glass remained cracked, just like her.

I never used the brush. It was for decoration.

Now, every night, I comb my hair with the brush alone.

<Anyone that can understand what I wrote is a champ>