Woman Seated under the Willows by Claude Monet
It has been probably twenty years since I sat with my mother under the willow tree in our backyard. The sky was bright blue with the fluffy clouds I so loved when I was little…that I still love today. The leaves on the hundreds of branches of the willow were brilliantly green. It may have been spring. Regardless, it was a perfect, most beautiful day. We sat together reading, rather she read to me, and through the open screen door we could make out the telephone ringing. It was friend of mine calling me to play. And I went.
I do not know if my mom remembers this day, or if she felt hurt that I left her under the willow to spend the afternoon with another. I do know that I have regretted leaving her there ever since. I still cry about it sometimes, like right now, which is absurd. But then again, is it really?
So often now that I am so far away I think about that day, even though it tortures me…even though I hate to think about it. I wish over and over again that I could go back to correct that mistake. And stay in that wonderful moment with her in the shade of our willow.