in a cozy chair, I journal next to a NW window

it’s early morning & the sun hovers, somewhere,

behind a sheath of milky-white clouds

*

stepping briefly outside for what I hope

will be fresh air, I’m stunned at its heavy stillness

*

I’m lost in a good book as darkness descends —

the leaves of our white birch hazard north to south

& rain polka-dots the dusty windows

in advance of the quickening onslaught

*

I continue with my reading,

the furious summer storm

a soothing balm to the internal ravages

Mom’s recent death has unleashed

~ for Mom, August 5, 1935 – July 16, 2025

husband notices a small group sitting on the ground,

in a tight circle, in a corner of lawn

when we pull up to the Vet’s office,

for Coco’s yearly vaccinations.

the clang & rattle of wheels on pavement

makes a loud, disturbing noise

as a young woman in scrubs pushes a small gurney

across the parking lot. ~ of course.  it makes sense now.

a mournful family, saying their final goodbyes, sharing memories

of happier days, expressing, I’m sure, just how much

this canine loved one has meant to each of them and how much

they’ll miss his silly antics, that goofy grin, those sweet puppy eyes,

laughing about when Fido was one very naughty little boy, indeed.  

and I am struck by a shared camaraderie.  ~ my mother passed away

two days ago, & our own small group of family and friends, will soon

gather in a few days to offer up our own memories and affections,

shed our collective grief and commune as one body to celebrate her life. 

we’ll share funny stories & zany anecdotes of one who’s meant so much

to us, each in our own time and in our own unique and loving ways.

hours now —

not days

six daughters

await release

morphine suspends the pain

my mother’s mind turns inward,

releases burrowed memories

confusing interiority with reality

knowing you were the catalyst

quiet gestures of contrition

the apology lodged in your throat

a new device / tool to play with

I struggle to set it up & confusion reigns

my mind gently cautions ‘Recalibrate!’

but frustration wins & I’m a mess

local flood warnings

post-Kerr County

probably perk up

more than a few heads

creating a new junk journal,

she cuts cardstock, sprinkles glitter

waits for the glue to dry on her fingers

slowly, peels away the layers

in the quiet hours, before the others awake,

she tends to greenery, commits a few dreams to paper

deadheads the dahlias, the geraniums, the begonias

unloads the dryer, makes the bed, eats a slice of buttered toast

and marvels at what one can accomplish in just a sliver of time