Today was such a day, dulled by heavy clouds and just too chilly for my liking in May.
After running a few errands, settled into my nest, watched the Red Sox win a game before deciding to fold the laundry. Time to get at the musts of daily living. Didn’t take long before I found myself leaving the musts, sitting in a comfortable chair with a book of poetry in hand, The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry.
Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day, a mixed emotions day for some with and without children. The approaching day’s mixed for me, as well, missing the one without whom there’d be no Chad or Heather, Matt, Kristina and five Grands.
So, it did me good to read, then remember the one, who didn’t write poetry but loved me well for more than fifty years and told me so in his own way.
The Blue Robe by Wendell Berry
How joyful to be together, alone
as when we first were joined
in our little house by the river
long ago, except that now we know
each other, as we did not then;
and now instead of two stories fumbling
to meet, we belong to one story
that the two, joining, made. And now
we touch each other with the tenderness
of mortals, who know themselves:
how joyful to feel the heart quake
at the sight of a grandmother,
old friend in the morning light,
beautiful in her blue robe!”
See what I mean?
Some days, only a poem will do.
May Mother’s Day remind you, that I, for one, am thankful your Mother had you. I’m grateful for your good company on this journey.
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