A dusty trail took us to the ghost city of Volubilis, whose majesty still commanded attention 1,972 years after Emperor Claudius built his farthest Roman outpost. Our guide walked ahead barely sharing the enormity before us. The mosaic floors, now faded to pink and black revealed the talents of both Roman and Berber artisans; sea creatures still life-like, gods and goddesses still beautiful. Mighty pillars loomed on the expanse, thumbing their noses at time and the elements. One column caught my eye. At its top was a huge nest; big enough to cover my chimney at home. Were there pterodactyls in ancient Morocco?Read More
One More Thing Before I Go
Last spring when the scent of lilacs followed me from the backyard into my kitchen, I thought of my mother’s distant cousin and her daughters, who, like my lilacs, visited yearly when the earth warmed and the days grew longer. I pictured us all in idyllic memories of jump rope games and playing with dolls. But, except for MaryAnn, the littlest daughter, I could not remember their names.
A few years ago, I could have called my mother. She would have teased me for my forgetfulness, asked what I was making for dinner (there was never a phone conversation where we didn’t talk about food) and repeated her mother-to-daughter mantra, “When are you coming over?” We would have shared stories of those long-ago days before hanging-up and re-joining our lives. But my mother has passed on and while the images of our family lingers-the details are lost. I write One more thing before I go, my living record for my son, in hope that one day, when he has a question I can no longer answer, it can be found in this blog.