Noon, Memorial Day

Looking back on my mother's death.
It’s 18 years now, maybe more
Since we ventured up 395
to the Land of Sky Blue Water

Between California and Nevada
A turquoise state gem
The destination an Emerald accent
A be-castled small bay
The color of Carol’s eyes

Eyes. Remains. A small box of ash
Delivered by UPS to a widow with no
Direction. But I knew, didn’t I, Carol?
You could always count on that.

It’s our connection. Even though you are
In a corrugated box for final delivery
Delivery to a place where maybe
You believed in, love

Where I was made, a child
And now where I will be made once again
An adult, while ashes fall into the creek
Savita blesses you with gardenias
How did she know?

Release. You cloud the water traveling
Down to that Emerald Bay
I hear the trees whisper, "Thank You."
It’s exactly noon, Memorial Day.
   By Terri Lloyd
Published: 7/8/2007
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