“Sing … sing a song. Sing out loud, sing out strong.”
My mother comes to me in my imagination here in NYC in her flowery red robe, making apple dumplings by the light of the fireplace in the kitchen of my childhood home. I hear the sound of the voice of Karen Carpenter, singing a lullaby that feels like it's just for me. I blast the music loudly throughout the apartment and let it seep into my cells.
“Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near? Just like me, they long to be…close to you.”
Now my mother is a cardinal. And now I wear her red robe.
My mother is a cardinal hanging from a light tree on my desk as The Carpenters speak to my soul, reminding me that Connie Greer is visiting me right this very minute in the form of bittersweet nostalgia in musical notes on a rainy day when I miss her so much I feel lost.
My best friend sends me pictures of cardinals. They come to her wherever she is and I know what they mean.
“Sing of happy not sad.”
I will mother. I promise.
Comments