Today is the the thirteenth anniversary of my mother's death. I remember her in love and confusion.
She was contradictory: a Kansas farmgirl who eventually had servants ... a primly compliant officer's wife who stopped his career in its tracks with her during-the-divorce appraisal of him to his commanding officer ... nearly Puritanical, but had an affair with and later married a defrocked (later re-frocked) minister ... teeth-grittingly loyal, but capable of surgical precision in cutting people out of her life ... an aesthete, with shocking lapses in taste ... beautiful, but never quite certain of it.
I was never quite certain of you, Mother. But I loved you. And still miss you.