The Final Bloom

It is so gorgeous outside. For like the 1000th time since my mom died in October of '92, I picked up my cell phone in the car this morning to call my mom and chat about the weather. My mom loved this time of year, all the flowers in bloom, the smell of the approaching winter months, the knowledge that everything will be cleansed and renewed. I always laugh because it will be 17 YEARS next month since her death, and I still want to pick up the phone for the morning chat.

What did we talk about? Never really mattered. We just talked. Strange those things you really miss, no matter how much time passes, that you never understood you treasured. Simplicity is lost on the intellectuals. I think I would trade almost anything for one more morning chat.