Remembering my mother is less constant than her attention was to me, when I was helpless to care for myself. Like an ambush, the remembrance happens at an unexpected time, without warning. I wrote this Haiku this morning, intending it as a comment to her obituary in the Santa Barbara News Press. Who would expect that these signings of the guest book for the obituary would expire and disappear in one month?
First lupine of spring,
First evening star, the dawn,
Losing my Mother.
Written on 26 May 2015. One day after the Memorial Day holiday, 2015.