On the anniversary of my mother’s death
my student emails me to say that his own mother has died, and I type the obligatory I’m sorry because I am, and Of course, you may have an extension on the assignment because he can, and that I’m thinking of you which is only partially true because I have drifted back to my morning walk where I stood on the Third Street Bridge and stared at the creek below, watching ice give away to flowing water and wondering how winter weeds, cattail stalks, and gray milkweed pods could look so strong when I knew how easily they could snap.Photo Credit: Paul Cooper
Brilliant story. I love the fact that you didn’t just send an obligatory message. But meant it.
beautiful writing!!!
Wow. This story reminds me of that strange in-between state of feeling both present and disconnected. And the imagery is beautiful!
Beautiful story.
I particularly like the imagery.
This is beautiful. Thank you.
Lovely writing!