Was Johanna hinting… Johanna my sister… warn me in her own special way… her gentle, caring way? She posted a poem a few days ago… or has it been weeks? I can’t keep track of time anymore … it doesn’t matter… time … anymore …to a guy like me. She called it, “To Edith Failing”; Edith our Mom.
I am standing naked, drenched. My is head turned toward the sky. Cold rain pouring into my eyes. The cobra skinned clouds & the moon are playing tricks on my mind. After what seems like days of rain, the clouds part revealing a blue crystalised moon.
Blue dot-light stars splash across the night sky. It dawns on me that maybe Johanna is preparing ime and the world I know for the saddest moment of my life… lives really…hundreds…maybe more.
Edith is my favorite mother of all time The first mother walked out of Africa. Edith was that mother. I am grateful she chose me for a son. I guess she was looking for a challenge. Is Edith Failing? If so … will she return?