A perfect day with my mother

would include a visit to a fuchsia show,
where there might be a hummingbird, also visiting,
and then we might drop by Wessex, the used bookstore
in Menlo Park -- oh that’s right,
it’s out of business -- but my mother
is dead, so no matter -- we’ll go there anyway,
pick up some LPs,
and on the way we can visit
an elderly friend, someone who likes to be read to,
we’ll bring her some homemade baked custard
and a maybasket,
and then, let’s see, we need to stop by the nursery,
pick out some impatiens and lobelia
to plant in the garden this spring,
and then there’s a nice-sounding estate sale in Los Altos,
where we might find something we don’t need,
but of course we’ll take a short detour in order to drive by an especially beautiful liquid amber
crape myrtle
magnolia
bed of tulips
wisteria vine
I’m feeling wistful, no, hungry it must be,
shall we stop by the bakery? Harlan’s has been gone for years,
though that shouldn't matter (see above), but
you know, nothing really compares to homemade olallieberry pie,
let’s go home, there’s one just coming out of the oven,
also a pot of potato soup, macaroni and cheese,
actually I’m not that hungry, let’s just have popcorn in front of the TV,
we can sit all cuddled up
and watch Masterpiece Theatre,
or Mystery, if it’s on,
or if it’s not,
we could just sit and talk,
in fact, maybe I’ll just call you,
from wherever I am. If it’s Sunday,
then we can talk for an hour,
or if it isn’t, we can talk anyway,
for as long as we like.

Inspired by the beautiful piece my sister Barbara read at our mother's memorial service in 2008.