I awoke this morning late, with Beloved calling me on my cell phone, from a sweet dream that is still tugging at my heart.
I was at a beach front resort with my parents, perhaps Florida. Come to think about it, there was something vaguely-- sweetly-- Disney-esque about it. They were staying in the room nearest the laundry. As a result, they were folding other folks' clean clothes for them... I remember the bright, cool summer colors, aqua and peach and white cottons, neatly folded, in the sunlight.
We decided to take a walk on the beach. At that point, I remember thinking, it's a miracle mom is alive this year. We didn't expect her to make it this long. And she is doing so well.
As we walked on the beach, near a great bridge (like the Brooklyn Bridge), a great sailing ship came by, with an enormous, giant pirate at the helm. He sailed under the bridge and away.
Then my phone awakened me.
I think the reason this is tugging at my heart is the sense I had that my mom was well, she was with me, she was able to walk on the beach (this last was probably not true for the last ten years of her life). And the detail of my parents letting no laundry go unfolded! It was sweet normalcy.