October 16th

Every year when the third day of July arrives, how I wish for a terrible storm! I wish the heavens would be covered with ominous blue-black clouds, so that the day becomes night. I wish for thunder to crash and lightening to streak across the sky until my hair is static with electricity. On the next day, the sun can shine as long and as hot as it pleases. But on the third, I'll take the storm.

Still, that is not the day I miss you most.

I miss you most today. The 16th of October.

In October, when the leaves change from green to all the various reds and browns and golds, and begin to drift from their branches to settle on the ground, I think of you.
When the air is cool and the smell of woodsmoke fills the air, I miss you.
When I am baking, and the smell of pumpkin bread filters through my home, I remember you.
Every time my heart gets broken, or a friend betrays me, I miss you.
When someone bullies me and I feel weak, I wish that you were here (you always said I was the strong one).
When I am crying tears of loneliness, I wish that you were here to remind me that I have always been independent. (It's better that way, you said. Men will only tie you down anyway - ha!)
When I carve a Jack-o-Lantern, with newspaper spread across the kitchen floor, I remember how you used to toast the seeds for us to eat...and I miss you.

I don't know why it's so hard for me today, thinking of you. I've hardly cried for you, before. How long has it been? Ten years. Your oak tree is quite tall now. Why do I cry so now instead of then?

Thank you for loving me - in the way that you understood love. Thank you for teaching me to cook, and for teaching me etiquette. Thank you for teaching me independence. Thank you for calling me on my birthday when everyone else had forgotten me. Thank you for telling me that you were proud of me before you left.

Happy Birthday, Mom. Be at peace.