I’ve been driving around the Catskills for days and everywhere I go on the side of the road there’s giant explosions of forsythia. My Mom’s favorite. She’d always bring some branches into the house. I hear the word in her voice, her excitement “the forsythia are out!”
I’m here to sit alone and write about her, about her life, to tell her stories. The forsythia are reminders of the joy she’s always found in life, the explosions of beauty along the way. It’s perfect.
I love that yellow. Thank you.