The day began with some revision. Before I walked I looked at the cheese puff poem and made some changes, improved the ending. Then, it was outside in the freezing cold; really, it wasn’t as cold as the previous two days, but somehow I felt colder.I spent a good amount of time looking for ice pictures and found nothing magical today. So, I stood on the trestle bridge enjoying the deep blue rippling of the cold, cold river.
At least twice today, my youngest daughter said this: It’s a really good thing you didn’t cancel making the cheese puffs tonight, and I agree, because, she knows that once broken, a tradition can be hard to renew. We had the happiest, happiest night! My sister, my niece, my daughters, even my husband and my daughter’s boyfriend gathered with us in the kitchen for chatting and laughter as the cheese puffs were made. I always imagine my mother is present, above us, watching us all together, knowing how much we miss her. And, sitting on the couch after our cooking and cleaning was done, I finally had the chance to read two poems to my sister that were published last fall, one about my mother, one about my father, and it was very satisfying to share them with her in person on this special occasion.