I remember her laughing, smiling, scolding,
cigarette in hand,
Iced coffee in the tall glass on the counter. With cream.
Cube steaks and rice for Casey, ice cream with Magic Shell in those dishes.
Joy, tears, anger, forgiveness.
Answering the phone when I needed a friend, long letters, too many to count over the years.
The rings on fingers,
Loving them so, never truly understanding the loss that would accompany them becoming always mine.
The absence of father left room and need, and, all those years later,
we came together again.
Summer vacations, teaching me to drive.
Long nails gently scratching my arms and back. Zinc Pink. Calm in my storm.
I swear I could smell that Babe powder when I opened the closet today, one last time.
Her 3 S's.
Mother.
Understanding that now.
Loving, forgiving, accepting.
Oh, and the Scott's Casserole. Always the Scott's Casserole.

Psalm 23
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want...