Special Days

Early May is always a bit of a sensitive time around here.

My mother's birthday was May 3 (she would have been 103 this year), and her death anniversary falls near the midnight separating May 7 from 8.

And Mother's Day, of course, is always the second Sunday of May.

This year is especially poignant. It's the 20th anniversary of her death. And the first year my book about her--about her, and me, and our family, and all of us--is out.

Also, this year I didn't get to see my family--that was one of my ghost events.

Most days, I wouldn't trade any element of the way my life has gone. After all, I've landed here, in a life that was better than I ever dreamed.

Other days, I find myself wanting to tell my mother the nice thing someone said about her and the book. So I take a walk.

I see this.

And this.

The poignancy becomes mixed with gratitude, and with spring. And all is well.