Moments of joy if you squint for them.
Like that parking lot carnival.
And the pancakes in the shape of my initial.
Not trivial.
Just rare.
But they were there.
Fleeting though they may have been.
When I can be more gentle with your memory.
I'll think of these.
And I do. I do sometimes.
It is triggering.
The posts today. This mother's day.
Call your mom. For mundane things. For recipes. For gardening.
Tips.
This isn't what I need today.
But I will read them anyway.
And think of you.
And think of when,
And wonder how,
It could have been.
Like a willow in the bitter chill.
Of fall.
I wept, and I still will.
And sweep it under. Rugs and rocks.
Keep this in a tidy box.
Complicated and sad.
Grieve the mother I seldom had.
-Amanda
