This summer has handed me some unexpected health challenges I'm still figuring out how to deal with, and it's times like now that I miss my mother the most.
I like to imagine a dimension where I can still call her up and just. . . chat about the blue jay couple in my backyard, gripe about my persnickety roses, and laugh about silly, boring things.
I like to imagine her painting again, or reading Green Knowe, watching Miss Marple, hiking in a mossy forest, and cooking mouth-watering paella...
Her ashes sit silent on my desk. Sometimes, I trace a soul-shaped space in my ink for her.
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