Today we are celebrating Mother’s Day during the coronavirus pandemic. My husband and I did this via ZOOM with our three grown children, their spouses, and our nine grandchildren from ages six to sixteen. Of course I couldn’t give them hugs and kisses, and it was a little bit hectic — but it was good. Good because we still have each other. Too many do not. So today I am sharing three articles about loss.
The coronavirus has not only taught us about the loss of those we love, but also about the loss of opportunity. For those of you have lost your mothers, especially with words left unsaid, I am sorry. For the rest of you, remember to tell your mother what’s in your heart and not just in your head.
The Swing — A poem by Catherine Galascione and painting by Sally Bullers
If she were the young person she saw
when she closed her eyes and her face relaxed
smooth like the surface of a pond,
she would be flying through the air
on a swing, slicing through sunlight
and shadow, smiling
because no part of herself hurt
or called out for release.
But the air gently flattens her clothes
to her body, like the delicate palpitations
of her inner physician, defining her pain,
revealing the shadow near her heart
like a cloud obscuring the sun,
or the high branches of a tree
she could nearly touch with her toes.