September 3 is/was my RL mother's birthday, she died younger than she should have. Oh the longing to be with her, laugh with her, once again cherish her so intensely that my love becomes almost an invisible, breathing entity in the room, pulsating a cloak of security woven in the colors of I-would-never-want-any-other-RL-Mama-than-you...the yearning to duplicate that will never fade till I search the clouds and see her on a distant cumulus puff of JOY, joy at last! This month is many things to people (especially the 11th) but to me it is gratitude for the memory of what was...the hope for what will be...
PS. too grownup a topic for kiddie lingo today
PPS. Here's a simple poem I wrote shortly after she died:
LIKE CARBONATED PEACE
“All her numbers are going down”
said the doctor
on Mama’s last afternoon:
“We might as well shut off
the oxygen.”
“NO” I stressed
with a volume showing
my decibel numbers
were going up.
He left her, then, in a coma
and drifting
to the soothing sound of bubbles,
the musicality of bubbles…
like in the restaurant where we loved
seats by the aquarium
or our family’s fish tank
with bloated guppies we’d overfed
like the glass-bottomed boat ride
over cypress roots at Silver Springs
or the filtered swimming pool
where she’d held me up
till I could float.
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