Saturday, December 16, 2017


After working in her gardens all day, my mother would relax in her sunroom with a “Frisky.”
She combined Fresca (a grapefruit soda) with whiskey poured over ice.
When the children and I visited in the late afternoon,
she made them Friskies, too.
Theirs were just soda and ice.

Lately, I’ve been drinking Friskies in the silvery light of early morning.
I pour mineral water in a glass.
I add a splash of grapefruit juice.
I sit in my big chair by the window and sip.
I smile as I remember my mother.

All these years later, the taste of the Frisky evokes the heat of summer days, the sweet smell of roses, buzzing of bees, bare feet, the innocence of children, and the gift of unhurried conversation.
There is a feeling of contentment.
(We thought we had all the time in the world.)

The children have grown and have children of their own.
My mother died long ago on one of those languid summer days.
I’m older now than she was when she died.
Still, the happiness we all felt in the company of each other remains.

I sit in my chair in a part of the country far away from my mother’s sunroom.
It’s winter. The fireplace flickers and warms the room.
I sip my Frisky and smile.
I give thanks for memories - they are my good things today.

(Comments closed.)

The photos were taken near my home in Breckenridge and at Dillon Lake.