surviving
this first summer without
my mother
watering pruning adoring
her tall and rangy geraniums

It has been exactly three months today since my mom died; in some ways it feels like years. Missing someone who has been a part of your every day since you breathed your first breath is much different than missing a guy you break up with or a best friend moved away. It is a hole deep in the pit of your being that seems to continuously ache until it gets so big you know you have to find a way to let it out and grieve or you'll simply implode.

To me, my mother and geraniums are synonymous. It is probably one of my earliest memories: the colossal pink and red flowers of the tall and rangy geraniums gracing every window sill of our tiny little house. And probably one of the first things I ever did to help my mother was to go around and water them and pick off the dead leaves how she taught me. And in those last weeks, when she grew very weak, she was asking me to do it for her again. Three months later, I find great solace and comfort in this simple act. Instead of missing her, caring for her geraniums makes me feel close to her. It is one of the many small ways I have found to survive yet one more summer's day without her.