It's early and I'm tired.
I need to be at work at 7AM today so I can leave at 3PM to gather my serving dishes and foodstuffs for the bachelorette party tonight.
I spent most of last night cooking: olive dip, cucumber dip, roasted pepper sandwiches, greek pasta salad, eggplant dip for the exotic vegetables. I'll also have a shabby chic bowl out for the chocolate-covered espresso beans, and another for the tri-colored Terra chips. I'm trying to de-bach the bachelorette party culinarily.
I feel that did not make sense.
Anyway, on the ride to work today, I felt an enormous pain of loss for my mom. That kind of thing comes and goes, but hasn't arisen out of the blue like that for awhile. I was listening to Norah Jones and the hurt hit me. There's reasons for why it got me right then, but I just don't want to go into it. Other than to say, I miss my mom's sweet smile, her gentle ways, how she'd kick her feet up spasmodically when she laughed hard, and most especially, how she'd stare at me (all of us) for minutes wondrously, studiously, gloriously.
She'd have been 62 on Sunday.
It's early and I'm tired.