My mother is the reason why I obsessively buy books
But never read them.
She taught me to value learning, to seek knowledge and truth.
This afternoon she comes in carrying “Botany In A Day”
While all of the great classics of history sit dusty on the shelves.
(Speaking of shelves, and dusty, unopened things)
I bought her a sandy pink candle for her birthday.
She loves candles. But never buys them, never burns them.
One night I lit the flame - she came over to me:
“Why did you do that? The smell is going to give me a headache”
But you love candles, I say, if you love them why don’t you light them?
“I’m saving them.” For what? I ask, when is this special candle day?
“Angela, just leave the candle in the drawer, please.”
And I think that sentence sums up her entire relationship with me.