We have had rain, lots and lots of beautiful wonderful rain. No wind, just rain, everything is soaked and laying flat from the rain…but we are not complaining.
Friday was my Mother’s birthday. If she were still alive she would be 87 years old. All that day I kept missing her.
Sometimes the rain felt like cold tears from heaven.
I think part of the reason is we have had too many animals deaths this year…first Balou
Then Molly Dog
And, of course Monkey our cat, and Hank the grandchildren’s dog.
Death is like a cold shadow; a cloud passing over head…sudden in its appearance, then passing quickly on.
Out of the corner of my eye, all throughout the day I caught swisp of visions…Momma in her garden, Momma laughing…the tail of one her cats she loved, moving just ahead of her…just things…long known, now gone.
Like smoke, everything was like smoke…tangible and real, but fading quickly.
I look at all these little gifts —these half-ghost memories of my Mother as small blessings.
From my world to your heart,