mother’s day

we mark milestones so differently now. she remembers the name of the town where she was born. yet she does not recall the name of her grandmother.

there was a life there. so full of living. just like yours. just like mine. full of hallmark cards, birthdays, anniversaries. none of them ever missed, until they were all missed. she remembers the name of the town where she was born. we celebrate this. this bit of nothingness that is something when nothing is all you’ve got.

we measure these successes like knots on a rope thrown overboard at sea, telling us how deep we’ve gone and how much longer til we hit bottom.

all that life… where did it go? i tell myself it dissipates into the air surrounding us. it hovers, suspended; wanting to be seen in the sunlight as something beautiful before it leaves her mind for good. and so this is what we do. we gather up her fallen petals. we breathe in little particles of her story, her past, her love, her life. and she, in turn, becomes a small part of us. we carry her life with us when she can no longer carry it herself.