Friday, June 24, 2011

float away

When I was 20 years old I had a dream. In the dream I am in front of the family church. A church I had attended my entire life.
I was familiar with every aspect of it. From the choir above where I used to kiss the occasional boy and sing the occasional "Michael row your boat ashore", to the pew below where my older sister would pinch my arms and pull off tiny bits of my skin while I was not supposed to scream out in pain, I knew this church.
In the dream I am in front of the church.  The Seuss like tree that I had played in and around for years is standing tall and prominent. My family is gathered about in front of this tree. I suddenly notice my Mother. She is standing next to me. She reaches her arm up and takes hold of a balloon. She ascends into the blue sky. She goes up so high I can no longer see her. She disappears.
I realize this is not a happy occurrence and wake up. I think: my Mother is going to die. In a few months I turned 21 and 6 days later she died. It was sudden and unexpected. The last time I saw her was on my birthday. As my gift, she gave me a coffee mug monogrammed with my initial. I kept the mug for years until the handle fell off and finally the entire thing disintegrated.   When I see balloons that have been set free in the sky with the thought to set free the spirits of the dead, I think of my Mother.

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