And Now.. I Share the Dawn of Each Morning with My Mother..
How you ask? For she has left this physical world behind, not a few short months ago.
I awake to the sound of the birds around 5am
And I know that she is there..
I feed the cat, grab my coffee and make my way to my writing room
And I know that she is here…
I open the file on my computer labeled, “Gifts from Serenity Pond” and continue work on her book
And I know that she is here..
I peruse through the many small pieces of paper that hold her thoughts from years past
And I know that she is here..
I read and I cry.
Because I know that she is here.
I read and it’s as if I know my Mother for the first time
And I know that she is here.
I am not unlike my Mother and I realize this , the more I read
And I know that she is here.
I cry for the woman who wrote these words, her joy and her sorrows captured in words
And I know that she is here.
I cling to the little pieces of paper, wishing her back for just one more day
Yet I know that she is not here, not in this physical space we call Earth
But now I get to share the Dawn of Each Morning with her and the little slips of paper she once wrote upon
