Dear Mom

"Mother's Day weekend," you always said 

"is the best time to get the flower pots done."

... and it became a date, 

precious time spent watching and doing.

Reasons why I cannot help but think of you now 

as I move soil around to stuff a geranium 

or

as I roll pastry, chop apples, peel peaches,

pour hot jam into jars

and cook frosting just like yours.

How is it that I can miss you so - while you're still here?

That sparkle in your eyes, the energy,

the sympathetic ear,

the call to come for supper - or just to talk.

It's a mystery enshrouded in hindsight,

the last time you cut dough patches,

pinched a Perishky,

or glazed a cookie.

The last time you set the table,

poured a cup of coffee

and dished out blueberry pie.

The last time you left a message,
words spilling over each other, starting with
"Anneliese, this is mom ..."

The last time you fixed your hair,

put on a necklace, chose your shoes

and walked out the door.

Days gone by, remembered now

with pride for the Mom you've been,

reminding me of who you are

and to cherish the hug I can give you ...

still knowing your warm embrace

and the feeling of being loved. 

I love you, Mom.

♡♡♡