MOTHER

            In 1997, at age 76, my mother died from Leukemia. I was at her bedside singing ‘Amazing Grace’ softly in her ear as her breathing slowed, and then stopped. Her death was expected, and I was glad her suffering ended, but she was a treasure to me, and I felt the loss. She was an adventurous, creative spirit and for months I could feel her around me, hovering, only slowly letting go, moving on to her next magical journey.

            One night, months after her death, Dan and I were in a small hotel restaurant on San Juan Island where we lived. As we walked through the lobby after dinner, I saw a carved wooden statue of a woman, taller than me, with two children tucked behind her back. The sculptor was a local, Yates Lansing, and I’d seen his work before. He combed the local beaches looking for timber washed ashore from carrier ships and was able to see what that split and soggy piece of wood could be. In this one, it was Mother.

            I dedicated my small inheritance from my mother to purchase this sculpture in her memory. It will forever remind me of her and her simple, loving spirit, always chin held high, looking outward. Mother has lived in all our homes, on San Juan Island and in Austin’s Barton Creek, and now in an apartment in the Arboretum. In each setting, she has faced a window with a view. She gazes out to the future, with those children tucked safely behind her back.