I saw her . I saw her tonight . My mother lingers like a ghost . I saw her with a samsonite suitcase . She still has the pink rose petals on her dead body … pink lips . A body as fragile as a young childs , her ponytail a waterfall of hair . Once an innocent teenager who loves music , attracted to the “bad boy” of fast cars , cigarettes , beer and horses .

A kindergarden teacher becoming a young mother . A pretty young mother whose home is Chinese curtains and black lacquered lamps , wallpapered bedrooms , a knotty pine kitchen table set with California dishes and milk in tall glass cups , a turquoise refrigerator and a built-in oven , salmon tiled bathrooms and large mirrors . She loves sunshine and is afraid of lakes , loves beautiful dresses , matching hats and shoes , and is afraid of animals , loves to entertain with manners and style , and is afraid of intimacy with friends . She dances with my dad in the kitchen and loves affection with her little children … I see her tonight like this , tonight my mommy , my mom , my mother . She lingers around my heart like brilliant blue light from a diamond deep in the caves of a continent .

In gratitude and love for you , mom , tender is the night  … and to her grand-daughters , Denise , Jacqueline Joyce and Andrea … beautiful young mothers of loveliness …