Happy birthday, Mom. We’re still here, living our lives as best we can. Hoping you’d be proud.
We’re still here, missing you. Remembering the Christmases you made special. The way you always overstressed just so everything would be perfect. And it seemed to somehow work.
And we’re still here, still wishing you were, too. No matter how many years you’ve been gone it still feels like yesterday. Like you might walk in the house any minute wearing that mile-wide smile of yours.
Like you might dance to whatever song came on the radio, not caring how goofy you looked. And we’re still here. Wishing you were, too.
My small collection of poetry books includes one by the incredible Billy Collins. Titled, Sailing Alone Around the Room, this book is a treasure. There are so many terrific poems in this book, but I’ll share just one this evening.
The Man in the Moon by Billy Collins
How perfectly Mr. Collins expresses my fascination with the man in the moon.