I wouldn’t have written the piece, had she not so clearly given me the last line.

It was one of the first things I had professionally framed. I wrote it for my mother. They say write what you know. And what a privilege it was, to know her. I had a front row seat to all of it. 

Last night the shutters banged all night long. Just as my eyes were closing — Whaaaap!  Baaaaam!  Wood against concrete. Like the house was battling itself. I was mad at all of it – the wind, the noise, even my own ears. But after a little coffee, a little conversation, a locking open of the shutters, the anger subsided. Maybe it’s because the framed piece sits beside my desk. Maybe it’s because locked open, the shutters have stopped banging. Maybe it’s because I hear my mother’s voice in the wind saying we already survived this… But I’m smiling, because I had been given the last line so long ago. Given my wings.

The wind can and will keep blowing. One way or another, I am going to fly.