On Being

She walked
Chose a path
With no past no destination
Stepping grateful for
No sense of place
No thoughts
Nor haunting memories
Or Worried plans
Neither hope nor dread
She walked
Chose a path of mere

Breath and footsteps

Mother's Day

Wishing it would get easier, but it doesn't. I get older and my daughter is still gone. Took roses to her grave today. I couldn't bring myself to go yesterday.

Someone had left flowers for Dorothy's grave and the purple flowers were in full bloom. Fitting for Mother's Day. It was of some comfort, like a hug from the earth.