a story of sorts.

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i want to tell you a story. 

today would be my mother's birthday. 

nida moses bell.

she was one of the most beautiful women i ever knew. 

a disease, a malady, 

a terrible psychosis, 

ravished her awareness, yet she knew those of us she loved. 

she knew us. 

there were sweet sweet windows of reality where she didn't miss a beat. 

like the time i was sitting on her bedside, telling my sister how to knit on three needles. 

mom said 

four. not three.

and that very day i was sitting next to her, forcing her precious gold hoop earrings

through holes that wanted to shut from lack of her being without 

what she wore every day of her life. 

am i hurting you, mom?

i knew i was causing some discomfort, but she wanted them in. 

no. keep going. 

a few years before that, while she was still living in the farmhouse 

where she spent her entire life, 

i went to see her. 

i asked sister mine to not tell mom i was coming. 

i remember the look on her face when i showed up at the back porch door. 

well, i'll be….    i'll be….

after a sweet long visit, wherein we ate at the long antique kitchen table, 

barbecue pork….we drove to cairo to pick it up….

i made my amends. 

i attempted to make my amends. 

i was advised to do this, one last time, so that i could move past all the harm

i had caused during my days of addiction to substances that eased my crazyness,

substantia that filled the hole in my soul. 

i found the strength to say the words. 

mom. you were the best mother. the best.

she tried to avoid the subject. but i had to say it again. 

mom. you were the best mother. 

you see, in my family, growing up, there wasn't much talk of love. 

it was expected for us to understand that a roof over our heads,

meals on the table, a college education pay'd for, the best clothes money could buy, 

all this was love. 

so, yes. it was difficult for my mother to accept the words. 

when i said my last good-bye to her, years later, 

i knew it would be the last i would see her.

i love you, mom. 

and we kissed in our usual manner. 

i kiss your right cheek. 

you kiss my right cheek. 

i kiss your left cheek. 

you kiss my left cheek. 

and then i walked away. 

****

happy birthday, nida moses bell. 

you were the best mother. 

and i love you. 

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