‘You Don’t Need to Do Anything About Those People’

I sat in an avacado kitchen of decades past

A brilliant Pacific sunset framed behind her

Her aura angelic and pure, kindness and compassion

Hair silver, never seen in that kitchen

A wrong note in an otherwise perfect performance

‘Mom, you can’t be here,’ my dream self told her

“I know, Susan’, she replied. ‘Just know – you don’t have

to do anything about those people.’

Pausing in deep reflection on the many possibilities

Hidden in her words, unable to select one

I finally replied, ‘No, you’re right. I really don’t.’

‘I love you, Mom’

‘I love you, Susan.’