Tuesday, 10 December 2013
I spent today doing a jam making meditation, making apricot jam with the fruit from our tree and your recipe. I thought about so many things - the way you gardened and cooked, the wholesome domestic life you provided for us. The way you taught me to cook, the long days I spent perched beside the stove while you worked. I thought about summers and fruit picking and jam making and watering the garden in the dusk and harvesting vegetables for dinner. I thought about the beauty of your work and the rhythm of our days. I felt you right there in the shape of my mind while I worked.
Not a day goes by that you aren't in my mind mum, and every day it's a surprise to find I can't call you on the phone, or drop by and see you. You are so present and so absent all at once - you haven't dimmed at all, but somehow everything else seems a little less bright. The jewel tone of the jam on my bench comes close to being as bright as I remember yours being, close but its very taste is missing you.
at 4:49 p.m.