And then I saw a photo of a cardinal. When my mother died, I sat in her apartment looking out as a cardinal looked in. I have a metal cardinal on my front gate. Cardinals bring her to me.
I wondered what triggered such a response, and then, I thought about the baby shower. Talk came to mothers, our mothers. I appreciated mine more and more as I heard others speak of theirs.
I feel my mother here today, and, of course, I am 50% her, carrying her forth, and so perhaps the tears are those of joy. What I know is they come from someplace deep. There is an ache in that cavernous space, a cracking open, a seismic change.