FINDING HER THERE

FINDING HER THERE

From Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul

Finding Her There

Every year my birthday followed the same ritual. My mother would come to see me, on that late fall day, and I would open the door. She would be standing on the step with wind swirling leaves around her feet.

There would be a chill in the air, and in her hands she would hold my birthday gift. It would always be something small and precious, something I had needed for a long time and just never knew it.

I would open this gift from my mother with great care, then I would tuck it carefully away with all my heart’s possessions. How fragile these gifts were, from my mother’s hands.

If my mother could come to me today on my birthday, I would bring her into the warmth of my kitchen. Then we would have a cup of tea, and watch the turning leaves press themselves against the windows.

There would be no rush to open my gift, because today I would know that I had already opened it when I opened the front door to find her there, with the wind swirling leaves around her feet...

Christina Keenan

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