There was an orange sliver of a moon hanging low in the sky as I jumped off the bus at 10:20 this evening at the park and ride lot where I had left my car over seven hours earlier.  The bus heading back to the parking lot was more full than I expected so late at night, but after awhile I was too tired to do my usual people watching.  I turned away from them all and glanced out the window.  There, reflected back I saw myself, but for a brief instant it was my mother’s face, not mine, that gazed back.  Not surprising I guess, since tomorrow is the third anniversary of her death, and I guess she’s been on my mind.

Three years ago on that day she drove to church early to play piano for Sunday school, as she had every Sunday for years.  She played the organ through half the morning service, as she had for years.  She went to sit beside my father just before the sermon as she usually did.  But she told him she didn’t feel well, and he took her to the emergency room.  A few hours later Dad returned home without Mom, clutching her purse in disbelief.  She drove to church just like every Sunday, but she didn’t come home. 

It was the first lesson of many I and my family learned that year about living each day fully.  Because you just don’t know. 

Progress tonight; I thought about my mother and my eyes remained clear.  No tears on my cheeks, just a faint smile reflecting in the bus window.  That’s because I realized tonight that I can see my mother’s face whenever I need to.  I’ll  just  look in the mirror.