On The Eve of my Fifth Mother’s Day Without You

The way your hands always looked weathered but felt so soft

Mine are starting to be like that

My hair imitates your wildness

The crinkled lines that ripple from my eyes when I laugh

The last time we laughed together I didn’t have those yet

Now our lines would fit the same grooves, yours deeper and mine faithful shadows

When I look in the mirror and see more of you gazing back, I feel

Gratitude

Joy

Surprise, sometimes

Deep, deep sadness

You should still have the privilege of seeing yourself

Although you never liked to look at your own reflection

Just to paint it, to photograph it once in awhile

Mostly to capture how you saw the world in shapes and colors

Your designs were structured but your heart was free

I remember you as a beacon of hope

A crinkly-eyed laugh

An embrace to heal the hardest heart

A low and measured voice that rarely betrayed the power beneath it

A mind filled with pop art and crossword puzzle answers and recipes and things I said years ago

You were always really listening

Really watching

Really showing up for the world

On this fifth one I’ll buy you flowers

Probably yellow ones again

And look for you in the mirror

Waiting for those lines to ripple when you appear