I wanted to know what it was like before I was
conscious and before I had a mind to steer me
toward ecstasy and smash me with mistakes and
before I had memories to guide me and mislead me
and anger and tears to help me over my feelings,
so I drove to the city graveyard and walked
through the snow up and down the rows and let
my fingers trace inscriptions on the stones
until I reached the old part and there was one
that looked like my mom’s and I knelt and pressed
my forehead against it as a foal or a calf would
into its mother’s side and the cold seeped past my cap
and through my jeans into my knees and I stood and walked
back and closed the gate behind me and looked
down the tree-lined lane over the river at the horizon
and saw my mother’s smiling face just visible
above the garden corn at the edge of the cottonwoods.
Loved this Steve. Oh how I have missed my mom since her passing. I could feel that presence in your descriptive words. On I go to carry on her traditions for the season. Sweet memories warm us like a big hug. Cheers to you and Deb this season!
Lovely, thank you, Letty!
This is just so movingly beautiful Stephen . I was gently swept away by an eternity of silence that pervades this piece
Thank you so much, Ananda!
You always get me at your last lines! Thank you x
And thank you, Ana Lisa!
Re-membering our mother’s smile – of love and laughter!
Yes, thanks Sam.
As always my friend, Wonderful, just… wonderful! -^-
Thank you so much, Tamara!
This is so good – I would have written but Ananda said everything I wanted to say, to better. I wondered when you mama died.
So very kind, thank you, Deane! (It will be 9 years this coming Boxing Day, she is still missed.)