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© Joan Currie

Come to me in my dreams
so I can see you smile,
take me back to yesterday
even if only for a while…

I missed my mother desperately in the weeks before the holidays. She passed during Covid when I wasn’t allowed to visit her in the hospital. “Passed” isn’t the right word – more like “vanished, ” “disappeared” – “pouf” and she’s gone. Really gone.

My Mom had been the touchstone for my entire life. After she died, a deep grief, way beyond tears, burrowed into my marrow and appeared to be settling in for the duration. When suddenly, several days before Christmas, I started to find in the most unexpected places: photos of us together, her beautiful calligraphy-scripted book inscriptions, loving letters, birthday cards, and postcards from her world travels. These sweet and precious little Easter eggs were hidden away to be found when I needed her the most – when I needed the reassurance that she was not gone, departed, but very much with me still. Thank you, Mom!