You may have noticed that I’ve been setting my beloved Dad up on a pedestal lately. You may be wondering why in the world I wouldn’t be doing the same for my mother. I think most daughters could give you the same answer, “It’s complicated.”
This is an article I wrote for a now defunct blog regarding the relationship with my mother whom I now live with due to the strangest of events. This is a true account.
Persephone yawns and stretches from her slumber. The trees respond with kisses of green bud promises. The flower bulbs planted in the autumn reach out to impress her with their dazzling array of colors. Coaxing her to return, beckoning her to shed the grays and browns of her winter clothing and cloak herself in their kaleidoscope prism.
The birds sing in accordance with Demeter’s joy of her daughter returning. The birds, the animals, the people engage in the renewed mating rituals of the season. The winds whisper, “She is coming. Persephone returns.” And the mother responds to the words with rains of happy tears and dabs the scent of rejuvenated earth to entice her daughter closer.
My nature heeds the calling I hear as the Wheel turns from icy winter winds that left me breathless to the return of the daughter to her mother.
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