Making coffee..ironing sheets..

I.
Looking out the window,
beginnings of another spring,
thoughts of previous gardens grown,
funny how the mind takes wing
Then,  loud ringing of the phone
my grandmother - gone
Right away my mother goes back
 to her routine persona,
fills the house with aromas 
of  freshly roasted coffee beans, black toast
She did not let me take her arm,
help her out of the car  that day;
red and yellow rose garlands on the pews
did not take the sting of reality away
Living an active middle age life,
heaven would just have to wait for her, 
she paid her dues
Clearly there is no reason or need 
to take the small soft hands with
 mauve painted nails -
that tucked me in at night, 
felt foreheads for fever

II.
Too soon came the day,
 while looking through my sheers
at the demurely tree lined street
the phone beckons, expected, 
though my heart is numb;
trees give birth to hot china pink blossoms 
landing on the ground
Clouds had parted for her last breath to rise
In short order I found myself
in a department store;
soft bamboo fabric against my fingers
 He asked  "May I help you, Mam?"
"..no  thank you," I said, 
" I'm just looking for new sheets for my bed",
one day after their 50th anniversary

III.
 I'll join that lofty parade one day
where rows of  kindred legacies
march on silver glittered clouds;
And when peace settles all around me,
and if there is a call,
I think she will not at first cry                                                                                                                         Clinically, she will flash a beautiful smile,
then put on her running shoes                                                                                                                             she will go for a long distance run
I will want to take her pain away
 I'll fly like a bird and perch                                                                                                                        somewhere in  Andromeda
And there will be silver cord, 
coated with infinite love, 
for future tears and years
Still connected  for talk and laughter;
 as always we have  done 
 Seeds of the past are reborn;
walls of blooming sunflowers in her yard
This is our gift to each other,
passed down, 
linking us forever
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Invisibility is our suggestion for today - to write anything on the subject 
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