Goodbye Ritual

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Wonderful post from a blog worth visiting, Impromptu Promptlings!

Impromptu Promptlings

Yesterday I reblogged a post by Ruth Williams from praypower4today. She mentioned in it remembering how her dad used to stand outside his garage when she was coming over for a visit and remark that she was late. She said she finally realized it was his way of saying, “You’re the highlight of our day! Couldn’t wait for you to get here.”

The light bulb went on and I remembered something I’d written about MY dad on the anniversary of his death. Thinking about it made me wonder if that’s really some kind of “parent” thing. If we all have our little rituals that give our lives continuity.

If you do, I’d love it if you’d share it in the comment box!

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Goodbye Ritual

I don’t remember when it started, when my father decided, consciously or not, that saying goodbye needed to…

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Before the Sun is Lost

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Great Poets of the Blogosphere: S. Thomas Summers

S. Thomas Summers

Here’s a part of my today.

Consolation

There’s always dusk,
when the shadows stretch
across the porch

like a splay of soft blankets
A catbird, gray as ash,
will, for a moment, perch

on the railing as it considers
the steam rising from your tea.
You’ll only notice the pine’s perfume,

as fresh as winter, after the bird
is called away: there’s a nest to repair
before the sun is lost, before it’s lost.

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Mother’s Day Ode

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Hydrangeas

Relatives tell me I look a lot like my late mother (she would never have liked the term late, for indeed, she was always on time for any appointment).

While we do share some characteristics (like the patented “snort and cackle” when laughing – the snackle, if you will) and a penchant for saying to unresponsive teen-age ears, “Enunciate!,” I’d have to say we were not really all that similar.

  •  She spoke five languages.
  •  I speech wun (Inglich).
  •  She played Bach like nobody’s business.
  •  I play the radio like a professional.
  •  She was genteel and cultured.
  •  I am kinda like, from Jersey (she was too, but seemed less so, if youse know what’m sayin.)
  •  She was always in my corner and cheered me on no matter what.
  •  I was oblivious to her encouragement until it wasn’t there anymore.

Thank you, Lord, for the mother you gifted me with.  I hope she’s snackling up there with you, playing a fugue on the piano and sitting in that log cabin she always pined for.  God bless all the mothers, always in our hearts.