I painted the bluebirds yesterday.
The ones that have sat on the kitchen windowsill for 20 years.
I don't remember where they came from: Colorado, Alaska? Somewhere else? Probably Colorado because I don't remember them not "being" and Mom did a lot of ceramics in Colorado.
I'm pretty sure Mama bought them already fired, as bisque rather than greenware, because her initials aren't on the bottom. My nativity that she and Grampa did so many years ago when they were still engaged has either hers or his on the bottom of each piece, depending on which cleaned it.
But over the years, like so many of us, the vibrant blue faded, and even more, the paint started to come off in places.
So yesterday, I painted them again, and used a pen, like she did, to outline the eye area.
Is that what happens when we die? Do we get remade? Our parts that are crumbling, failing, fading renewed?
Does your body run and play? Does Gramma have her perfect eyesight back, lungs that won't fill with fluid?
Do you remember all the good and the love you experienced here?
I have so many questions, and so few answers.
But I trust you are still you, and she is still herself, and you both still love with all your hearts because that's what you did here.
I love you so much.
I miss you.
Love,
Mama
"But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."
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