The Offering

It was a flashback
All consuming
I knew it
And I knew the trigger
With tendrils
That reached back
To my infancy
So I let her/me cry
And I rocked us
Back and forth
Allowing waves of grief

Then I smelled her
My mother's warm scent
And she showered me
With vision after vision
Of delicate purple flowers
I was in awe
I asked, "Is that you, mama?"
And the vision shifted
To purple hearts
Floating upward
Then back to flowers
And I knew she had come
With this love offering.

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