I know

Baa, I'm sorry about your bike. I know it breaks down every day and I pretend I don't see the paint peeling off it when I walk past it into the house every evening, when I return from work. Mamu says you've had to get it fixed nearly every day. I know you haven't told me. But I know it's not easy for your old bones to drag them every couple of days to your destination. I'm sorry I don't have enough money to buy you a new one. I'm sorry I've failed as a daughter. There's nothing I wouldn't do to make sure you stopped drinking to kill your thoughts; to make sure you knew I care about your plans even if I don't listen to you half the time. But I'm growing old too, Baa. And I fear that I'll probably end up like you. Maybe that's the reason I avoid you so. I see my future in your every day. I see a woman who will have failed in every way and would have been forsaken by those she's loved the most. I know these are not things I should be thinking. But I also know I can't help us right now and I'm feeling like there's not point in anything..