Framed

You are the only picture that is in my semi-empty apartment.

I have set you on my windowsill.  In the corner, yet completely exposed should I choose to turn and look.

For a while I wished only to see your face in my memory and even then it was often too overwhelming.

I wonder if you still think of me daily as you said you did…everyday for 23 and a half years.

I was your baby.  I am your youngest.  I was your sweet child.

I will not know you to the extent that I would like, but there is an image that I have of you:

Strong, compelling, devoted, and caring.

You have a gripping and undeniable presence in my life.

I am your child, and you are my mother, and we have been joined wordlessly for over 29 years.

On most days your influence is hushed and subdued, but dwells deep within my being.

I know you through careful glances and sentiment.

This is how I am connected to you; this is how I make peace with you.

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