Lucky You Escaped This Mother

Warm on this October day, as I enter the place my mother does not lie. Her body is not here either, but a tombstone is, so I give a deep sigh. If I speak to her, will she hear my thoughts? I think yes, and so I do. The breeze is nonexistent, the sky a beautiful hue of baby blue. So mother, if you can hear me, know it is a beautiful day down here. Mother Nature is preparing a path for winter that is exceedingly clear. The trees are turning the colors of tangerines, bananas and a stop sign. This place is peaceful, calming. The heart you hear beating is mine. You missed the pandemic and the riots, mother, and I am so glad for you. Nothing is as easy now, things are sad. People are dying and blue. As I sit here next to your stone, I wonder about all the things that were. There is such a reverence for this place. I feel that it is crisp and pure. So much to tell, and I have all the time in the world. I have to ask, What would you say about all of this turmoil and the fight of the mask? I am glad you escaped Mom. I know the end was a horrible fix. But the joyful, carefree, unencumbered world as you knew it does not exist.