Friday, February 11, 2022


Jonesing for breath of spring

Starting seeds inside window


Thursday, November 18, 2021

From Heaven

Aunt Kay's Mass

Kay's daughters asked us to wear red in celebration of her joy. 

Kay lived as a servant to God, a loving wife and mother. 

A woman who shared laughter. Red was her favorite color...

My Mother is ninety this year. 

We embarked upon the cross country trip for the funeral.

American Airlines lost her walker in the first leg. It appears there is no longer 

assistance for the disabled. With connecting flights to Harrisburg and 

forty four minutes to run in the terminal with the bag of rocks mom packed,

it's a miracle we made it.  I perfected the habit of stealing idle Delta Airlines

wheelchairs. The contract employees who work assistance in airports are called 

by walkie talkie from the gate guards. They don't care to communicate. 

(Delta abandons their wheelchairs in American terminals, yet another layer of 

how America is terminally disorganized.)

Imagine me running, pushing the wheelchair with my tiny Mom gesturing with 

arthritic deviation for the crowd to part. The noise of me carrying one bag

while two behind clatter and bang like cow bells. Suitcases swinging.

With a sweat we made the connecting flight.

The funeral mass was upbeat. Reuniting with cousins on the east coast

was the highlight. While masked you notice how eyes smile as crinkles

of monarch butterflies lifting from the corners.

The next day I took my Mom to Wildwood Park to enjoy the birds and fall leaves. 

In front of the nature center a thoughtful person planted a row of winterberry

bushes perhaps more than fifteen years ago. They sang in the sunshine while 

yellow wings floated to the ground. I'm sharing the glow of crimson with you.

Aunt Kay prays for you from heaven with this warmth. 

Winterberry is in the genus of ilex, or holly. Ruby jewels for the

scarlet tanagers delight.