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A Visit with Mother
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Family A Visit with Mother
One spring day, when I was fifteen,
my mother and I carved our initials
on the trunk of a live-oak tree,
an affirmation of our special bond.
We watched cloud formations while she
told me many secrets of her life.
I wanted to freeze that day
in time, remain there forever.
Later that evening, when the
sun was down, I came there alone.
I touched the ground softly,
and I knew this would
be the place where, someday,
I would come to be alone with her
when she was gone.
Today, I walked to that sacred place.
The quails piped in the bushes
and the mockingbirds were in
perfect harmony; the
carillon in the distance offered
"Amazing Grace."
I hold the memory of her precious smile
close to my heart.
The soft, southern breeze
rustled the leaves over the land
she loved so much, and I
walked slowly over the green
pastures toward the home
I knew as a child.
