I mentioned in an earlier post that I love writing (and receiving) notes and letters. It’s such a simple way, really, of saying hello, giving thanks, and sharing a memory or snippet of news.
Today, in honor of mom’s birthday, I penned this note in my journal. I write one to her (and my Dad) every year, even though they are both not here.
Happy Birthday Mom!
Today is August 8 and it’s your birthday. I miss seeing you, since you made your graceful exit 11 years ago.
Of course, you are right here with me in my memories, in my heart.
More strikingly, though, is how you are here with me as I go about my day.
You’re right here with me as I find myself saying “What are you doing for fun today?” and “A little money calms the nerves”, two of your classic expressions.
You’re here with me whenever I stop to marvel at a colorful flower, the texture and shape of a tree, and the play of shadows across the ground.
You’re here when I walk to the bluff and try to count the many shades of blue and green that dance in the water below me.
You’re here when I smiile and say hi to strangers, or thank that nice person ringing up my groceries.
Mom, you’re here with me as I listen to your favorite classical music, especially Alicia de Llaroccha and her gorgeous Iberia. (In fact I’m listening to her right now as I write out this letter to you).
You’re here as I delight in the bounty of people who inspire me. I often write them notes to say so, just like you did.
You’re here as I filled a white bowl this morning with freshly picked raspberries, vivid green snap peas and two scarlet rugosa rose blooms. You always filled our home with love, light and beauty.
You’re here with me as I pluck a good book from the library shelf, visit a neighborhood bookstore or swap “what are you reading today?” lists with family and friends. (And yes, I always mention that I’m Andrew Clements‘ sister!)
You’re here with me as I travel along in life, even though it’s been eleven years since I have held your hand or kissed your cheek.
Today, on what would have been your 92nd birthday, I’ll pick a bouquet of white daisies from my garden and hear your soft words, ”Always have white flowers in your garden, dear. They provide your eyes with a place to pause”.
And I’ll continue to create each day, with you by my side, as I hear you say:
I am so very blessed.
With love and gratitude,