in memory

December 19 • 2023

This tiny band of angels go back to childhood winters in Delaware. My brothers and I sledding down South Road on our flexible flyers, hooting all the way to the bottom. Everything else still and quiet, muffled in pillows of white snow. 

Snowsuits, wet mittens, snow angels.

I don't know the origin of the angels except they were my mother's and now they live with me. I can hold the lot of them in one hand: the one with the cymbals, a coronet player, the flutist with one broken wing, the drummer. Claire lined them up on the mantel, front and center, watching over us this December. 

On this Winter Solstice, I remember my beloved mother, my angel. 

xo b

 

           

                  

             Dorothy Southam Jackson

          July 7, 1926 - December 19, 2001