she had always loved flowers and had turned our interior hallway into a luscious greenhouse father was not always happy about the falling leaves
in her later years when skiing was no longer hers she hated winters their long nights their waning sun
she was always longing for spring waiting for the day the morning sun lit up the kitchen desk again in her parentsβ house where she was born and had grown old
the night before I had called and told her that here in the south the first flowers were already dotting the gardens
she had smiled on the phone almost inaudibly speaking had become difficult
maybe her last images were of colorful spring meadows
today at 7.10 a.m. my mother died
spring has come
On the occasion of the 10th anniversary of my mother's unexpcted death.