Another grey day and it’s the first day of summer [sigh]. She worries the skies won’t clear and again tonight she will not see that beautiful, humongous full moon. Well, no reason to fret all day and at least it’s not raining …yet. The weather has been unusual in the past few years. Extreme cold winters that last for months on end and no spring…well, hardly a spring that is.
People joke and say we only have two seasons now, but she thinks there are three…winter, sprummer and autumn. Winter lasts 6 months and sprummer and autumn negotiate every year for what they can get.
Tomorrow is her mother’s birthday and every year since her passing in 2014, she has a tradition. She goes to a town where she raised her children and where her mother would also come for picnics by the river rapids. She sits on a rock with her feet in the water and chants her mantra to the waves, remembering her presence. Tears of joy and melancholy run down her cheek and mix with the river’s splashing from the strong current, the rapids and the dam.
This year she will bring her grandson to the rapids. He’s almost fifteen, and may find it boring…unless, he brings his fishing rod [twinkle in her eye].
behind grey veils
hanging with humility
my summer moon
© Tournesol 2019/06/21