It was late by most people's standards, unless you were a night owl. It had been a fun but long evening of team effort as we prepared the venue for tonight's affair.
He came into my bedroom and leaned against my dresser. We talked. There was a glimpse of similarity to this scene, but it was suspended in that moment of conversation. But after he left, it all came to the top like cream that rises on those milk bottles of my childhood. This was the last time that he would do this and my mind was flooded with the countless times of years past that this was a normal occurrence. Coming into my bedroom late at night , to talk, mother and son.
Those apron strings that have been stretching taut these past years snapped last night. But they snapped with gladsome tunes of, "Thank you for all you have done," and a delightful conversation, mother and son.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
a chickadee
I have taken to afternoon walks in the fields along the side of the woodlands. Today I carried along a small pair of binoculars hoping to c...
-
I debated writing this post on Shadow Pearls instead of here since it certainly would be fitting as I recorded those days on that blog when...
-
You might be totally clueless about kombucha, but I would guess you have more than likely at least seen the word around somewhere or heard ...