Legacy

Moms are magic. I imagine other moms are like mine, the embodiment of magic.

Sunlight stutters through overhanging trees, leaves rustling in the summer breeze. The warmth nurses my arthritic bones.

My siblings and I not only received our lives, but we were shaped and directed by mom’s beliefs, her choices. Who would I be if not for this magic? Certainly not myself, not a writer.

Children play in the park fountain. Happiness nourishes me from peels of unfettered joy.

A squirrel glides and pauses across the lawn. Her gait is blemished, and I realize she is old, like me.


Photo is copyright by Shizzi.

Daily Post prompt. (100 words)

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