I love how we can continue a dialog with our loved ones after they pass. The conversation between you and her has now turned into poetry. How gorgeous.
I love this poem. I also had asthma and remember my mother's not so kind remedies as a child, and if she ever experienced a night like this when I was a baby, she never shared it with me. Thank you for sharing this so I can imagine her with a different response to a child who can't get her breath.
Beautifully written!!! What you said about your mother reminds me a bit of mine. EXTREMELY complicated, yet there ARE good memories and ones when she did seem to care. I don't really think of Mothers Day when it comes to my mother that much anymore because it's just easier not to. I DO celebrate or honour other Mothers though. <3
Sometimes it's easier to let a holiday be "for" someone else, isn't it? Thanks so much for reading, Angela -- I'm glad the poem spoke to you. Love to you, and to our complicated mothers. 💛🌿
Thanks for this. So beautiful. I remember nights just like the one you describe, home alone with two little ones, up late in the rocking chair, afraid I'll fall asleep and drop the baby. I'm not one to idealize the past, but if I could pick a moment with my children to relive, I think it would be rocking them at 2:00 am. Such an intimate moment you evoked here.
Peace finds its way, if we let it. This is such tender memory, Elizabeth, a gift, really, one it's clear you treasure. The devotion was true, no matter how clouded the expression over time. And "as burden and beloved" you let love have the last word. Thank you for that. For this.
This is so beautiful, the poem, the prose following. My mother has been my hardest relationship and it’s so easy to see only that part. But as you so poignantly say there are also those tender moments and both are true.
Thanks so much, LeeAnn. Mother/Daughter is ... a lot, isn't it? Different layers of truth in the relationship are visible on different days, and it keeps shifting.
I barely got past this line and I wanted to just comment on how brilliant that image is, so powerful and effective at creating a sense of place and atmosphere...
.. but of course i had to read on and I am blown away by this story and how you tell it. Love speaks in so many ways and means.
Elizabeth, there's a good deal I can relate to in your comments about having a complicated relationship with your mother. Mine passed away at 55-cancer-and I was 33. Far too young and so many things unresolved, so many questions unanswered.
I've only written one poem with her in mind but I know I need to write more...thank you for this tender memory.
I believe you caused many to conjure up so many memories of their mothers.
No asthma thankfully but lots of colds.
So much Vicks vaporub! Will that lingering smell ever leave?
Oh, the memories that certain smells bring back ... !
Thanks so much for reading, Looocinda.
I love how we can continue a dialog with our loved ones after they pass. The conversation between you and her has now turned into poetry. How gorgeous.
Yes, the conversations go on ... !
Thanks so much for reading, Ann. 💛🌿
I love this poem. I also had asthma and remember my mother's not so kind remedies as a child, and if she ever experienced a night like this when I was a baby, she never shared it with me. Thank you for sharing this so I can imagine her with a different response to a child who can't get her breath.
So sorry that happened to you, Rose -- I'm glad the poem can help with a re-imagining! 💛🌿
Beautifully written!!! What you said about your mother reminds me a bit of mine. EXTREMELY complicated, yet there ARE good memories and ones when she did seem to care. I don't really think of Mothers Day when it comes to my mother that much anymore because it's just easier not to. I DO celebrate or honour other Mothers though. <3
Sometimes it's easier to let a holiday be "for" someone else, isn't it? Thanks so much for reading, Angela -- I'm glad the poem spoke to you. Love to you, and to our complicated mothers. 💛🌿
Yes. Sometimes it is easier.
What a beautiful poem. Made me feel like I was in the early morning moments with my colicky first son again
Oh, bless! I hope he's grown up well and happy. Thank you for coming by to read, Tania.
Thanks for this. So beautiful. I remember nights just like the one you describe, home alone with two little ones, up late in the rocking chair, afraid I'll fall asleep and drop the baby. I'm not one to idealize the past, but if I could pick a moment with my children to relive, I think it would be rocking them at 2:00 am. Such an intimate moment you evoked here.
So glad the poem brushed up against those memories, Tara. Happy Mother's Day. 💛🌿
Peace finds its way, if we let it. This is such tender memory, Elizabeth, a gift, really, one it's clear you treasure. The devotion was true, no matter how clouded the expression over time. And "as burden and beloved" you let love have the last word. Thank you for that. For this.
💛🌿
Beautiful beautiful reading of this 💚💚
Thank you, Brian.
So much love in these words... Thank you for sharing your heartfelt poem with us, Margaret.
Thank you for reading, Fotini. 💛🌿
Always a pleasure!
This is so beautiful, the poem, the prose following. My mother has been my hardest relationship and it’s so easy to see only that part. But as you so poignantly say there are also those tender moments and both are true.
Thanks so much, LeeAnn. Mother/Daughter is ... a lot, isn't it? Different layers of truth in the relationship are visible on different days, and it keeps shifting.
How incredibly lovely, both in verse, and in the story behind the verse.
Thanks so much, Sydney! 💛🌿
"A nightlight rearranges
the shadows in the quiet room."
I barely got past this line and I wanted to just comment on how brilliant that image is, so powerful and effective at creating a sense of place and atmosphere...
.. but of course i had to read on and I am blown away by this story and how you tell it. Love speaks in so many ways and means.
Thank you, David, for the kind words as to both craft and substance. Grateful to have you reading.
Thank you. And a heartfelt hug and thanks to all the moms (or dads or guardians) who sat up in the dark hours of the night with someone they loved....
Amen. And another hug and thanks to the grown daughters and sons who kept that same vigil with their parents.
Love to you, Nancy my friend.🌼
Auntie E,
Just beautiful!
Auntie B
Thanks so much, B.
Elizabeth, there's a good deal I can relate to in your comments about having a complicated relationship with your mother. Mine passed away at 55-cancer-and I was 33. Far too young and so many things unresolved, so many questions unanswered.
I've only written one poem with her in mind but I know I need to write more...thank you for this tender memory.
My mother died at 55 as well, Jody; far too young, as you say. I was a few months short of 21.
I believe those poems will find you at the right time. Mine found me, once I started leaving the door on the latch for them.
Thank you for the nudge to leave the door open to ponder more... It's a sacred echo for sure.
Quite quite beautiful. Perfect even. And oh so many of us have been there so we see it. Have a gorgeous day.
So glad it resonates with you, Cecilia! Thank you for reading. 💛🌿