Lifting the sheet and summer blanket high
While the morning air struggles to billow them underneath
As they sink onto the bedframe,
When you taught a five-year-old gangly girl
Who adored you so and loved your hugs swallowing hurt and worry
Into your arms strengthened by years of cleaning
And softened by years of cooking and tasting for seven
And rounded by the weight of bringing five into this world
(A labor you called sweet and easy),
How to make a bed just so,
Smoothing out the lines to a crisp and fresh clean.
Now she allows the sheet to wrinkle and the blanket to hold stains,
A reminder that one year you are gone,
As her childhood and your protective love.
The author with her mom when Carol visited to say goodbye. Saturday, 21 June 2014. Falls Church, Virginia.
It’s like glass breaking,
The crystalline tinkling sound
Of heart chords ending.
My mother’s pearl bracelet, gifted 15 years ago to her only daughter, worn as “Something Old” at her daughter’s wedding. Photo by Lindsey Naima Hemphill, owner of Naima Photography. The Plumas House, Reno, Nevada. Saturday, 12 October 2013.
Bride and her mother hugging right after the ceremony. Carol Cizauskas and Gene Cizauskas. The Plumas House, Reno, Nevada. Saturday, 12 October 2013. Photo by Lindsey Naima Hemphill, owner of Naima Photography.
Your hands speak of love
As you hold your daughter close
After the wedding.
Cherry Hill Park, Falls Church, Virginia – Friday, 21 October 2011
Joy dissipates fog
Of age for mother whose girl
Is about to wed.