happy birthday to my mother (six years after her passing)

Today my mother would have turned 83. She was 20 when she birthed me so it’s always been easy to keep track. Just add 20; easy math. She’d be proud of me. After all, she would probably remember trying to help me with my geometry homework. I swear my poetic brain just could not conceptualize the spatial figuring of a triangle. Geometry often brought me to tears.

To be truthful, I didn’t remember today was my mother’s birthday until late in the afternoon. Oh, it was on the calendar. April 9th – Aries’ time – is indelibly engrained in my memory.

I think of her on a fairly regular basis. This time of year – now that it is actually acting like spring – I hear those wind chimes I’d bought her one year for her birthday. After she died, I got them back. The chimes have a beautiful sound as the breeze blows through them. These chimes are deeper than most and I love the profundity it calls forth somewhere deep within me.

What a wonderful gift for me on her birthday!


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