When We Write Letters, Part VIII: Letter to Mom

10-6-12 Canon Download 513

Dear Mom,

Will you walk with me for a few minutes in the garden?



Photos taken on my father-in-law’s farm late last summer where many beautiful plants and trees grow.

I think of you walking with me in the garden. Instead of shopping for dresses, we will look at ripples in the river. Don’t you see them dancing there? The goose took off, and his wings tapped the water.

You walk with me, though you don’t know it. When I find my peace beneath the trees next to the Catawba or when I am lost in the Blue Ridge Mountains, you go with me.

I wish we’d traveled together when I drove above the mountains in mid-winter. You could not tell wood from mountain side in mist so white.

You have asked me to go shopping so many times or for a bite to eat.

I did not go.

Now guilt burns.

You see, Mom, I live with you. I could not take money from you. My loving mother, you would not see it that way for you love and give in the way you can.

For now you cannot walk with me to see the trees blooming. Yes, Mom, I wish you could see the dogwoods blossom near the Greenway. Soon the bees will be shopping for honey.


You wished I would go to lunch when I put on my apron. The flour was poured into the mixing bowl.

“When will I spend time with you?”

“Here I am. We could cook,” I said.

A few days later you lie in your hospital bed. You and I, different women we are. Let us find a new way to live as mother and daughter. Until then, remember I think of you always when I wander between the trees and beyond the river.

I ended the When Write Letter Series a few weeks ago, but after my mother went to the hospital Saturday morning I changed my mind. One more was needed. You will notice this post and Thursday’s Thurspiration are connected. Thank you, readers, for your constant support!

Words and Photos by Rebecca T. Dickinson

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