For Mom, on her birthday

 

Dear Mom, Happy Birthday!

Or, as you would begin,”I’m writing this short note before I run off to the post office and do some errands (grocery shopping, alas!)” 

 It’s gray here, and cold. But the birds have started singing in the morning, and it will warm up to the 50’s by this afternoon. Scatterings of tulip leaves poking up in the tiny spot by our front door, but not much else yet. The weather has been increasingly erratic, and the beautiful magnolia tree – which I so wish you could have seen – has a glaring gash down its side, where a major limb tore off in an ice storm last month. I put a couple small branches in water and the buds flowered fully, before browning and crumpling up. Not sure if those will be the only blooms we see from the tree this year! 

 E said the ever-reliable big daffodil patch in Pennsylvania ceased to bloom when you died; we all love daffodils, you know, because of that patch. I have a small vase of them next to photos of you, with the rest of us. It’ll be two years in April, so odd to say. 

You would not believe how much C has grown, and what she can do! A new 8 year old, willing – looking forward to – acting the part of Michael in Mary Poppins in front of a crowd – so much she can memorize, and sing! I remember you looking at her baby hands, saying they were strong, maker’s hands; true to that, she’s always making something. Strong opinions, too; stubborn like me; bright, funny, sparky; with a sweet tooth to rival yours. I meant to have Oreos on hand, for today; in lieu of that, I’ll have a nice cuppa tea, near you, or near photos that stand in for you. If you can feel anything, wherever you are now, I hope you feel at peace, contented, full of love. 

Miss you.