Breeze of change teases me on familiar neighborhood walks
The thought of being a childless mother comes often enough that we have made friends with one another now
and this new relationship invites me to begin the arduous process of untethering an invisible velvet ribbon that runs from my youngest daughter and I
Everywhere I turn is a subtle reminder of a magical yet tragic childhood all three of us played out
The world is our living museum of a thousand memories I’ve attached the girls names to all of them
Wildflowers
Old glass jars that filled meticulously made potions of the day
Ice cream shops
Torn sheets of paper made into delicate Mother’s day cards
Court house benches
Parking lot that played host to pick ups and drop offs
Chipped plates
Birds singing
Even silent rooms, hold meaning now
And yet there is a knowing that even this life we’ve lived has always been on borrowed time
that indeed nothing is permeant, every-thing changes
nothing and nobody actually belongs to us in the end.
I stand on the edge of reflections…
that to mother was always a necessary loss to find myself
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