She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when a sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strickly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To everything on earth the compass round,
And only by one’s going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
--Robert Frost
I am one of the lucky ones. I had my mother for 88 years. I am lucky I
have a close family, supportive of each other. We saw each other often,
living in the same state most of our lives.
My mother was a wonderful role model, an aerospace computer programmer.
During her life she worked on secret projects, which she could not discuss
with us. A very cool mom for a young girl. She was always effortlessly
stylish, from pearls to denim. She was an avid reader and loved both history
and poetry. And she loved music, from Percy Faith to Hank Williams.
We all treasured the whole family being together for holidays, and I will
forever remember just last Christmas when I hosted the family, using the
beautiful crystal candelabras mother had passed down to me.
My brother and I grew up knowing we were loved, no matter how crazy we
got, pursuing the arts while my parents tended towards mathematics. Yes, I
was one of the lucky ones, right down to the last conversation we had, her
eyes open, her thoughts clear, two days before she died.
Kathleen Forrest, daughter of Doris
Priestess of Temple of the Goddess
