January 26, 2021
"To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow." --Maya Angelou
“Take all the time you need, sweetheart. Can we get you anything?”
I asked for an inkpad and paper before knowing why. Turning to smile softly in gratitude for those angelic hospice nurses, my PPE crumpled, reminding me where I was. An old episode of Andy Griffith pantomimed from the hanging TV, no sound. I sympathized with Barney’s bulging-eyed desperation. I, too, felt muted, suspended. Even through layers of protective latex, I felt her heat lift as she did. Unfathomably sacred. Meanwhile, floating unceremoniously past just outside, the audacity to endure, with little acknowledgement to yet another glorious series finale.
I am joining some beloved writer friends in a 100 words every day for 30 days writing challenge! This is #3. Join us if you like. With so much love to you all.
you captured the moment perfectly 🙏
My heart. My whole heart. Te adoro, sweet Faith. KEEP GOING!