What a privilege

Good morning all.

Happy Sabbath.

It is a,

luminous day,

here in,

my beautiful ugly.

I am having tea,

my second cup,

reflecting on,

the last few weeks,

looking towards,

the next,

little while.

I am also looking,

to the future,

the capital F,

future.

Making,

definitive plans,

is never a great idea,

after suffering a loss,

as big,

as the one I have recently,

had.

I need to make,

the flat,

my own.

Which involves,

much sorting,

giving away,

deciding what to keep.

As an only child,

I have the advantage,

of making all decisions,

and,

the disadvantage,

of making all decisions.

My mom is still very much,

everywhere in the flat,

and I am not ready,

to change that,

right away.

I miss her,

and I am learning,

to make the space,

mine,

to make it my home,

rather than our home.

It will take time,

everything from,

which you grow,

takes time.

It is,

thanksgiving weekend,

mom and I never made,

a big deal of it.

I am thankful for all I have,

and all I have been given.

I am also sad,

and I need to feel that.

I am not complaining,

everyone lives through grief,

and trying to force,

the emotions,

the feelings,

away,

never works.

I am tired,

these last two years,

have been hard.

And yet,

I can’t say,

how grateful,

I am that I was able to be there,

with mom,

that we got through,

the hard stuff together.

She gave every last bit of love,

she had,

and shared herself with me.

We knew each other.

Many people have,

referred to my mother,

as my best friend,

that isn’t what it was,

we knew each other,

not in that way,

she was always,

my mother,

and I was her daughter.

I have friends,

a best friend,

even,

it is a special bond,

almost impossible,

to define,

kind of like love,

and chemistry.

My mother and I had,

a rarefied bond,

full of intense love,

and moments,

of really not getting each other.

We each at different periods,

of our lives,

carried each other,

we never resented it.

We may have been impatient,

to be fair that was mostly me,

but, no resentment,

and certainly no,

regrets.

What a great privilege,

I was given.

Be well everyone.

Count your blessings,

wear a mask.

Later girls,

BB

Author: Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my mid early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

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