Come with me, mom

I had a wonderful morning. Relaxing. Coffee in hand. Dog next to me. Cat on the other side. Just pretty nice all around.

Then I drove to work and burst into tears.

It seems like anything that pushes me forward – without mom – when I am not yet ready, just repeats the cycle of recognizing my loss. How life, seemingly unfair, goes on without her.

But it did today and I couldn’t stop it. So how do I embrace it? How do I accept the challenge to change myself since I can’t change the situation?

Thankfully there is Maya Angelou.

Come with me, mom. I need you now.

And then I put my hand on my shoulder as if I feel hers there too. Whatever metaphysical energy source is there, I imagine it is my mom, holding my shoulder and coming with me. Being my rainbow in this otherwise cloudy day.


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