six or so weeks ago, we moved. oh, not that far. seventy miles, just about directly north. i’d felt for quite a while that it was time to go. but it never quite seemed to work out. the market tanked. job offers came (and went). finally, things fell into place. we sold our home to a nice couple, who appreciated the TLC we’d tried to give it. as the moving trucks pulled away, i went to close the front door, taking one last look inside of the home we shared with mom.

i pictured her snuggled in the prairie chair with a good book, reading glasses not exactly on the bridge of her nose. a cup a coffee nearby, the fireplace burning. i saw her in the family room, watching the national news and commenting on the state of the union or firmly stating her political POV. i remembered her at the dining table, enthusiastically engaging in a strategic game of Monopoly. i thought about the times she scolded Winnie for planting herself in front of the pantry, demanding a biscuit for immediate delivery. i recalled the times that were infinitely harder: when she could no longer concentrate on her beloved books. or became frustrated when she’d forgotten where she left something, and we’d all spend an inordinate amount of time trying to find it.

i miss all of those things.

we found a smaller place (with huge picture windows, ma, just like the ones on Harwood Road) where we could feel cozy, and Elroy could live out his doggie days absorbing what are, apparently, very interesting smells and going for mature dog strolls. every now and again, a great blue heron lands in our new backyard. or flies overhead. and i know mom is with us, wherever we are.

this day and always, giving thanks for you, little bird. with gratitude and love.