Mother was very ordinary. She possesed a quiet beauty and strong conviction. Lemurick admitted to himself that he missed her a little. He wondered if he was anything like her- he had been on his own for so long that he barely remembered her. "No," he thought- "I'm not like her- for better or worse, we are nothing alike." He could not shake the feeling that he was missing something, like there was a piece to his mother that he did not understand. It could not be important, though, or she would have told him- for she told him everything- even things he hated her to say. He could not remember many of her words now for they had become out of focus as he bit and clawed his way to notoriety. Lemurick allowed himself to cry for the first time in a decade. For the first time in a long time he was thinking about someone other than himself. His tears were both angry and sad, he wanted his parents to have a better life. He had gained success and it was not right that his own parents lived so meanly. Again, Lemurick found his purpose- to better his parent's lives.
