Grace

I'm exhausted from searching for my mother.
All night she evaded me.
I waited for her at home and cried when she didn't come.
I tried phoning her and got someone else.
I walked through the house.
I sat on the floor in her empty bedroom and cried.
I cried all night.
Now I'm tired and sad.
It's been 4 years since she died,
yet I still look for her in my dreams.
I dream that I'm looking for her and can't find her.
I wake up with this heavy sadness,
this ache to see her just one more time.

Fame

I've always wanted to be famous.

I've never been sure exactly what my route to fame would be, but today I found it.

My darling son, who is in 3rd grade, gave me a Mother's Day present - a list of sentence starters about mothers that he was to complete. They were very adorable - "If my mother were a flower, she would be a sunflower because she shines. If my mother were an animal, she would be a cheetah because she's fast." (Those races around the yard have made an impression, I suppose.)

My favorite, though, was "If my mother were a car, she would be a limo because she is famous to me."

So now my search for fame is over. It certainly isn't glamorous, or monetarily rewarding, but glorious and rewarding...yes.

Hydrangeas

Sookie Jane is the name my Granny would yell, either as a threat or as a term of endearment. She had a hard time remembering the names of the grandkids, so she'd either call us Sookie Jane, or she'd name 5 or 6 other names until she hit on the right one. This was usually followed with, "I'm gonna git your goat!" That's when we'd run outside into the sultry summer heat and hide next to her white house by the blue hydrangeas. I loved those bushes. Still do. I can't seem to make them grow in this rocky soil. It's funny how many things from home don' t fit in here.

I haven't been called Sookie Jane in years.

So, here's to you, Granny. I'm sure you're growing hydrangeas and making yeast rolls for all of heaven.