Mother’s Day

Dear Diary,

I remember the last year my father was alive for Mother’s Day. He didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body — marking holidays really wasn’t his thing — though he loved nearly indiscriminately and believed fiercely in family.

I called him on Mother’s Day, to acknowledge the day, and the absence it represented for each of us.

For a moment, there was a puzzled silence at the other end. Had I lost my mind? Forgotten who he was?

And then an instant later, in falsetto, he replied, “Why thank you, dear.”

He was never one to miss an opportunity for a joke.




Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s