Today, September 20, is my mother’s birthday. My Dad and most of his children gathered at Mother’s gravesite tonight, and it was a beautiful time. We siblings put out a big basket of silk flowers and—since we had a notion it might be carried off, as sometimes happens—we put a weatherproofed note deep within the bouquet. It said:
“A GIFT FOR YOU …
When our mother was little, she got in trouble for removing flowers from a grave to make a pretend bride’s bouquet. Please enjoy these flowers with her blessing and ours. ~ Mary’s children”
We had fun with that … and now we may be disappointed if somebody doesn’t snatch the flowers.
* * *
Oh, Mother mine
(so often in mind) …
Your motherly ways,
I miss them so much.
But I miss most of all
your motherly touch.
* * *
Driving home afterwards, I could hardly keep my eyes on the road for the beauty of the sky. The corals, coppers, pinks, and peaches were breathtakingly enfolded. by the time I neared home, the colors had melded, but were still brightly glowing. Instead of turning up my street, I drove out to the boat ramp and lingered with the view.
[The clouds were not as patchy as in the
photo above, taken just a few evenings ago.]
During the time I stood on the shore, other vehicles arrived with similarly-drawn admirers of the sunset. I was reminded of the movie “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and its depiction of that mysterious, irresistible pull toward Devil’s Tower.
Ah, my clocks are chiming a late hour. On that beautiful note, I will wish you a good night.
* * *