It's a safe bet that no one wants to read forlorn lugubrious* words about Mother's Day. But, it is a bona fide fact that my Mom is dead, and therefore it's my prerogative to write whatever I damn well please to make me feel cheery about this day. Nope, I didn't sit around gnashing my teeth or weeping, but instead did my own Mom thing with Zach, pilfering through Target (of course I paid!) and then later getting drenched in the rain as we made a mad dash for Dairy Queen yummies.

So, aside from my own Momdom, I thought of this poem today, and it's what moves me as the day ends...

The Embrace

You weren't well or really ill yet either;
just a little tired, your handsomeness
tinged by grief or anticipation, which brought
to your face a thoughtful, deepening grace.

I didn't for a moment doubt you were dead.
I knew that to be true still, even in the dream.
You'd been out -- at work maybe? --
having a good day, almost energetic.

We seemed to be moving from some old house
where we'd lived, boxes everywhere, things
in disarray: that was the story of my dream,
but even asleep I was shocked out of narrative

by your face, the physical fact of your face:
inches from mine, smooth-shaven, loving, alert.
Why so difficult, remembering the actual look
of you? Without a photograph, without strain?

So when I saw your unguarded, reliable face,
your unmistakable gaze opening all the warmth
and clarity of you -- warm brown tea -- we held
each other for the time the dream allowed.

Bless you. You came back so I could see you
once more, plainly, so I could rest against you
without thinking this happiness lessened anything,
without thinking you were alive again.

Mark Doty

*a fav word to both myself and my Mom... "mournful, dismal" - its enunciation and meaning combined make it irresistible.

Reasons why the single life can be a bit sub par at times (and a good reason why a single woman needs a significant other to boss around):

1. I had to power up the sump pump during a heavy rain late last night, reaching into the ominous webby pit to plug it in(standing there staring at it a couple minutes to get up the nerve), only to have the pleasure of a big brown wolf spider emerging at my bare feet. Talk about the willies...

2. Doing yet another load of laundry that had one lone tissue in it. Obviously they breed and multiply in the washer, and even furthermore in the dryer... (while this potentially has nothing to do with being single, it's tiresome nonetheless).