she spent an hour picking the perfect blooms

delicate lillies and bright orange tulips

two roses

one pink

one red

two cards

and a bottle of cheap vodka

she set the vase by the window so the sun can shower it all day long

the first card was lovely

teal and purple hearts on thick stock

inside it simply read

to my mother in heaven, always watching down

she signed it love always xoxo and placed it in an envelope and set it by the vase

it had been ten years and the ache always flared back up this time of year

the cancer was brutal and the image in her head now is of a frail thing

hardly more than a skeleton

the machines doing more to keep her alive than nature

it was a relief when the call came and said it was time

the second card was harder and required the vodka

and she drank and stared at the bag with a sense of dread

four mother’s days ago she was soon to be part of the celebration

four months along and glowing

and then she felt the twinge

something was wrong

spotting blood

a fluke

one in a million

and she spent that mother’s day in a quiet room alone

the same symphony from her mom’s room now accompanying her

and as the tears fell

the waves of anguish sweeping like the moon had suddenly gotten much closer to the earth and the waves became tsunamis of emotional devastation and threaten to drown her

no expression could relieve the feeling of being trampled by a herd of guilty whispers

of gossip and pitiful stares

of breaking down everytime it got too quiet

or too loud

or too real

or too

everything

so she began a little ceremony

celebrating her believed mother

and the lost child

not miscarried

she could not have carried that baby any other way she morbidly joked to close friends who never smiled at it

so she pulled out the second card

she had barely glanced at it

a motivational quote or some other feel good inspirational garbage

to remind herself to breathe

that she nearly had her dream

but it was a detour not a demolition

and she would have it all one day

one day

until then though she hates one day

this day

one day maybe

but not today

and pressed into the envelope

happy mother’s day

and she drank and absently rubbed her stomach

and wondered if angels were real