My mother is an amazing woman who taught us to be independent, loving, giving, creative ... she taught us that we could be and do anything with the proviso that we had to also be willing to give up whatever we had to give up in any given situation. She encouraged us to impose ourselves upon the world and interactively participate. She is an amazing woman who struggled with a dollar short and time outlived.
She paints across a canvas of colour, images of her world. She works too long and has too much pain. She misses her daughter who has left this part of the world and flown to skies on purple pansied wings, a butterfly brightly burning in a star.
She loves and cries and talks and dreams. I smile and remember the crisp whiteness of the laundramat where we would would walk in sunlit days, her bare feet navigating the street and the clink clang of the glass bottled coke sliding down a dry dusted throat in cleansing relief.
I love you mom ... and hope your day was as nice as mine enjoyed with the boy that hugs and smiles and kisses my cheek and tells me in poetry why he loves me as we dance amidst bowling balls and snuggle close in perfume scented smiles.