It's been a year since my mother's passing and looking around to see if things have changed, I discovered a certain immutability of time. I feel her, yet she isn't here. Time has moved on. The gardens lie fallow — fallen apples turning from red to brown, rejoining the earth from where they came. Her presence is still here — her shoes still sit where she slipped them off, a covering of dust on the knitting basket, the colorful yarns awaiting her gentle touch.
words by TK and TL
4 comments:
Beautiful.
this is important.
means a lot.
Tim This beautiful, powerful, work. Chelsea mentioned your blog.This is the first I've seen it. I'll watch more closely. Thank you for noticing, capturing, and sharing some of the nuances of Mom's life with us all.
Love, Dad
This is great info to know.
Post a Comment