Tucked among the numbered days of summer’s end, are those first few September days; welcomed perhaps, as we feel we are coasting out of a tired summer; and special to me, because someone special had a birthday just before Autumn begins. The weather here in Kentucky, as with much of the country, says it is still summer — humid and hot. My calendar, however, says it sees Autumn just over the brink. Life on my humble little patio this morning — for just a short time — agreed with the calendar. A gently breeze which hadn’t caught the humidity just yet, whispered through leaves ripened with the age of a long summer. As I thought about how quickly those calendar pages fly away, and today being my mother’s birthday, it seemed nature was bringing gifts to her; and I was the lucky one receiving them. Our three resident hummingbirds (my mother’s favorite bird) had suddenly become five, and were showing out in their usual form. Our beautiful bluebirds had returned to cheer the backyard with their autumn chattering and swoops of blue. The patch of zinnias had caught enough rain lately to renew their growth, and sprouted a small cluster of bright orange blooms among the many shades of pink. A lone Monarch had ventured back in for another round of nectar. The nearby KWT train whistled long and clear and carried my thoughts to a different place and time; to my mother’s front door, and a time when I didn’t fully realize how tiny is the window we have, to say I love you.

I wish I had a picture of her standing in the door,
In her robe — the old faded pink one she so often wore —
And the time-weathered hands, reaching for my face.
I wish I'd stayed there longer in that precious time and place.
I knew — yet I did not know — she was trying to hold on,
To a moment — one more shared moment —
One last sweet, soft, touch for me to hold.

Remembering my Mama, Betty Jackson, on her birthday with poetry, as she always wanted me to do; and with a love she surely couldn’t have guessed would grow with every passing year.