A Kiss from Mama

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Some folks see messages from their deceased loved ones in birds, or trees, or the ways a particular flower blooms. And some of us see messages in bits of glitter that seem to come from nowhere.

Late afternoons the sun climbs down from your piano bench

moves into a space where it touches both of us

rests on the floor between --

this bridge of light that guides us into evening.

You turn your face just so,

a glint of green just at the base of your cheek,

right where she used to rest her fingers

when she touched your face and said, “Thank you, baby.”

"There is glitter on your face," I say.

You smile, incredulous.

There has been no glitter in your home since she died,

It must be a kiss from her,

a blessing.

Somewhere in her perfected essence,

where she is, free from suffering,

free to be the sweetness at the core of her existence,

she reached out to touch your face --

left a speck of bright green glitter, so you would know

her soul is there to bless you in your loving.