A dear friend lost her mother in April of last year. We attended her memorial service in Kingston; at last, her five children and their families were able to say goodbye to her properly, and as she herself would have liked. Sitting by the open window in the church and staring out at the parked cars in the mid-morning heat, the tangled traffic, the hills ever-present beyond, my thoughts turned to my own mother. The date of the service, June 30, happened to coincide with that of her passing, in 2006.
It is easy to hide one’s feelings behind a mask. We were social distancing, and we seemed to be waving at our friend and family members from a distance as we were scattered among the pews.
I reminded my husband that our friend’s mother had given us an otaheite apple tree…
View original post 354 more words