Happy Mother’s Day up in heaven, Mom. It’s been sixteen Mother’s Days without you now. That doesn’t seem possible, it been only moments since I got the news that began the landslide in our family.

But today let’s just remember the happy Mother’s Days, lots and lots of them, when you were here to get our homemade art projects and cards and all the flats of petunias and marigolds we brought home for you from the local nurseries.

This year I found cowslips for you just like we used to when we were young kids. You remember those golden yellow flowers that bloom right around Mother’s Day.

Glowing in the swamps we used to tromp through they were obvious gifts that we lugged home in buckets overflowing with black peat sludge that ran down our legs and into our boots.

We planted them for you along the lakeshore in the backyard. I don’t remember that any of them lived, but it was the thought that counted. Right?

Anyway, this year I found some cowslips for you but I didn’t dig them up. Didn’t even get my feet very wet. I figure it’s easier to send an image up to heaven than a bucket full of mud, roots and blooms.

I hope you enjoy the flowers, Mom. We miss you every day, but we smile, too, with all the great memories.

Sending you hugs, please share a few with Dad.

Happy Mother’s Day.