Brown
My mom passed away. Yesterday, October 23. Peacefully, at 92 years old. She was a gentle person (except when she wasn’t) and a mother of 8 plus foster children. She did a lot of mothering. Gone now.
This photo of the hazelnut seems appropriate.
And this poem I wrote a long time ago.
Brown
I used to say “No more brown clothes.” Brown affected me like dust, rust, bug wing brown, algae brown. Brown infected green with mud and yellow with an antique glaze. November coming, monochromes, those stalks stunned bitter brown with cold. Slick brown. Off spectrum.
I’m brown cured now. How? Both sugar and smoke. Brown stayed up all night with me. Brown of eyebrows, mug brown, shelter brown. Brown with dimension, furry brown, brown brushed up, then brushed down. The brown of the encounter, the chocolat, the velvet curtained pool, the shadows past the box. Browntown. Hug you brown, nestle brown, my nest. Compost brown, silt brown, soil brown, dead leaves happy to lie down, decay, I am definitely brown.
Fly Free, Mom
love to you, Catherine
Oh Catherine. No matter how long anticipated the sorrow is always sharp. My deepest condolences for your loss.
The fiery glow of your hazelnut tree, somehow, fits a woman who mothered eight children and fostered more…may you rest easy in your memories. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your Mom.
A long life, useful, time will soften, love…
losing a mom is such a hard thing … and your poetic words feel so very right as I recall my own feelings 14 years ago
wishing you peace in the days ahead
My deepest sympathies to you Catherine. Saying goodbye to our mom is the hardest. May you embrace the Brown of this goodbye and let it hold you in the softest way possible. xo