It is a good day
for a glass of wine —
red —
a sunrise walk
on the beach,
and again at sunset.
A sunday drive would
suit this day,
a route to nowhere
while exploring everywhere.
Food should be had —
southern in style —
pancakes for breakfast,
raid the ever-full pantry
and fridge for lunch,
enough to feed Cox’s Army
for dinner…chess pie,
banana pudding,
blackberry cobbler…..
Memories will be explored
this day;
grandchildren’s love, screened
porches and rocking chairs,
meals and mountain roads,
pets and the ‘adopted’ kids
children bring home.
Too many to list, too many
to forget.
Holiday’s and vacations,
time around tables
and the kitchen island —
eating while standing —
homemade cheese popcorn,
books everywhere, family
pictures wherever you look.
Short of time, all out of fight,
betrayed by a body, treatment
worse than results…the first
time she was not happy
to see her son. Not ready,
not ready, not ready…..
It is a good day
for a glass of wine.
Happy Birthday Mom
Pat Windham
July 23, 1944 – September 27, 2009
Awakened Words 
Oh, lovely, sweet, sad…
Oh my word, at the first line of this section, I just knew things were going to fall apart:
“Short of time, all out of fight,
betrayed by a body, treatment
worse than results…the first
time she was not happy
to see her son. Not ready,
not ready, not ready…..
It is a good day
for a glass of wine.”
I’m so sorry about your mom. It’s miserable to watch a parent’s body fail, but even more so when they are too young. My mom is 69 and can hardly move. She’s had a stroke and may have Parkinson’s. But whatever the illness and whenever the loss, it’s not something that really gets easier, even if the pain blurs a bit at times. There’s still a big hole, forever. Hugs, my friend.
And I was craving red wine earlier too. I didn’t get any though. So thanks for rubbing it in.
Oh yeah, come write me a poem. I posted a word list today.
Oh Mark what a lovely, sweet but oh so sad story. None of us are ever ready for the loss of a loved one but when you lose a parent, especially your mother it seems you really do become an orphan. I don’t know how many times even to this day I want to pick up the phone and call my mother. Happy Birthday Mrs Windham !!!!
I was reading along happily, wallowing in the charming nostalgia, and then wham, you hit me between the eyes with the saddest stanza. It’s always hard to lose a parent, however grown-up we are, we become our bewildered younger selves at that point.
I found it difficult to hold back my tears with this one. I wonder how long it takes a person to rebalance after the death of a parent. Perhaps never. Perhaps that’s why we call it loss.
Very touching and a lovely tribute to your mother. I’m sure she smiled as you raised your glass to her.
This brought tears to my eyes.
Beautiful. Poignant. Filled with love.
such a wonderful tribute.great.