| As I sit beside Mom's bed, the loud ticking of a clock nearby intrudes on my sacred thoughts in a room filled with the frailties of human emotions. "Don't leave me, Evy," is her faint request. As I bend over to kiss her cheek, I hold her shoulders with my hands, gently resting my head on her chest. "I love you, Mom. I love you so much!"
From the open kitchen window rumbles the sound of a truck driving past the house on the lonely country road. I wonder when Mom and I will sit at her kitchen table again. For a fleeting moment, I remember how lovely it was to see the reflection of white candlelight dancing from her eyes on those Friday nights at suppertime. Mom's thick silver hair is combed neatly to frame her resting face -- her cheeks showing a hint of a very pale pink flush that matches the pillowcase. I see her eyes moving under her closed eyelids; her colourless lips quiver now and then. "It could be any day now," the doctor had said, "so be prepared." Be prepared? I glance at the clock that just keeps ticking away without a care in the world, while I sit here memorizing Mom's face like it's only moments for my mourning time to begin. Her mouth dropped open and it feels good to hear her breathe. What are you dreaming, Mom? Are you seeing Dad's face? Are you tasting a piece of chocolate? Are you smiling at the sparrows pecking at each other over a mere sunflower seed? Are you feeling scared? Are you hurting, Mom? Can you feel my love reach through your dreams as I am holding you? Dream, my beautiful Mother, and let your heart beat with the happy sounds of springtime. Sleep my beautiful Mother, and rest. When the sun sets on today, should your heartbeat fade away with the music of the sparrows' evening song, there will be an eternal springtime when I will be beside you forever. Life, Oh precious life, you are a race against time. Love, let me love today. This moment is mine. ... EVY Copyright (c) May 2005 EVY Return to Reflections |
| "What Are You Dreaming, Mom?" |
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