Continental Story Books.

She wrote for me,
a book of recipes,
filled page upon page –
with the ingredients I’d need,
and, day after day –
it’s a book I still read;
detailing poisons –
in her own handwriting,
pressed in between –
old weathered binding,
soft leather skin,
full of soul, and divinity;
a handbook,
to guide through,
the dark days ahead –
written in a language,
spoken to and by the dead,
and it should be clear –
why I hold so dear,
the words that I have read;
she drew a picture-book,
and dedicated it me –
filled it with her paintings,
and photos of the beach,
chained it,
with a padlock,
beneath iron lock and key…
and the only person,
on this Earth,
who can open it –
is ME.

Delivered.

I had been complaining about how long it has taken her package to arrive via snail mail just the other day; it had been just about one month…she made the comment that it was okay, that I’d see…the mail would arrive at just the right time – when we were each more in need of the said packages than we knew. As usual, she is right.
Today is Mother’s Day in the U.S.
I have a rough day on Mother’s Day every year because…well, for obvious reasons…
I opened her mail this morning amidst the sadness that I typically wake up to on Mother’s Day…and it made me smile and reminded me of important things that aren’t always so easy to recall during the rough patches in my life: to breathe…inhale and exhale…and everything else falls in line somewhere.
Throughout my lifetime thus far, I have seen many movies and read endless storybooks detailing friendships that seem to be able to surpass the confines of space and time; even life and death through the invisible bonds associated; I never fully comprehended such subject matter until now, more recently in my own life.
There are, indeed, some friendships – bonds – ties – sutures – webs, which are so intricately wound throughout the human elements of the Universe, that even those bound inside the weave do not fully appreciate the depths and heights made available through such cosmic humanity. Those of us who are woven into this fabric know the power and strength to which I refer; those who do not know, can only believe.