A tulip's fresh opened petals;
A crumpled kleenex, still damp;
A card with sincerely expressed emotions;
A million pictures of her;
These are the sights.
The sniffling of your mother;
The barking of dogs at every additional doorbell ring;
The ringing-ringing-ringing of the telephone;
The singing of her broken-hearted friends;
These are the sounds.
A lifetime's worth of flowers;
A loaf of freshly baked bread;
A meaty chili on the floor;
A spritz of her Juicy perfume;
These are the smells.
The hug of your too skinny mother;
The feathery petals of flowers;
The curly matted hair of a dog
The cold feeling of metal from her necklaces;
These are the touches.
These are the sensations of grief.
But I'm glad for them.
I'm glad for the splashes of color,
In an otherwise expanse of gray.
Dedicated to Jocie Garlick.