Eve's True Temptation

And of the Butterfly Tree
You Shall not Speak;
Lest its Secrets be Revealed
on the Breeze.

How did my friend know, when I didn’t even know myself, that the most difficult anniversary of all had torn the membrane between my grief and my memories?  How could she tell that the final days of May were tethered to feelings I still can’t quite reconcile, when I shed the last tears for Mom I ever would in the last place where she would lay down to sleep, emptied by me and my kindest friends of whatever was left to pack or donate or discard?  Who told my friend to remind me that I didn’t need to ever feel bad about my mom, that Mom’s life was her life, and that I had done everything I could, and now it was time to take care of myself?

I think we all know who it was.  And I am listening.

One day in May, you might go to the flea market; and there you might see all manner of delightful kitschiana; but to catch a glimpse of the Glowing Blue Bunny, you have to believe.

Native to the Upper Midwest, Cygnus Cementus drifts serenely through violet speckled lawns, in this case sharing its habitat with a Wind Powered Road Runner and Common Concrete Squirrel.

The hazy sunlight comes in the window.  The 5 am sheets are both cool and warm.  For a few moments, that is all there is to consider.

Sometimes you accidentally? drop the roses upside down into the “vahze,”  which happens to be the precious plastic cup your mother used to keep her paintbrushes wet.  And sometimes the roses look beautiful just like that.

xoxobrenna

So many butterflies, she lost count.  Petals as far as the eye can see.  Lilting voices overheard among the trees.  Dark air barely skimming your arm, through a summer window.

What she gave you, you cannot give back.