Perhaps it is just in the day. It is cloudy and drizzly. Now I have the time I crave, time that I have been wishing for, to do so many things. But I can’t seem to move forward, cannot find what it is that I wish to do. It is not that I’m restless, for I feel a sense of inertia, and yet a sense of discomfort…of things left unsaid and undone. And so here I sit. Maybe the words will come to me. Maybe the voice will come and tell me what it is that I want to do, what it is that I want to say.
The other day, I went to my friend’s mother’s funeral. It seemed as we age, the more funerals there are. I cannot say that it was sad, for she was 83, lived a good life and was suffering bad health the last year. It is good that she is freed from all that. I am happy that she is in heaven, among the stars, along with her John.
I remembered her kindness, her contributions to the community. She was always happy to see me and welcomed me in her home. One time I was visiting and she polished my shoes for church, along with her family’s. Another time, she climbed the rickety stairs of my boarding house to give me a pair of lamps as wedding presents for my ill-fated marriage an eon ago. She called herself my other mother.
Now, I think I can go on with my day.