By Celia Coyne
The things my mother taught me are not practical. A love of poetry and an appreciation of the sky will not take you far.
I remember her weeping over unpaid bills. The numbers were a foreign language.
Then I remember her showing me how to pick up a bumble bee without hurting it so that it would not sting. The prickle of its legs on my open palm; the furry perfection of it.
There were things that only she could do. Like pill a cat – it would take the tablet from her hand.
Celia Coyne’s stories have appeared in various journals, including Takahe, Penduline Press, Flash Frontier, Flash: The International Short-Short Story Magazine, as well as several anthologies.
Lovely tribute
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I agree with Aurora. Just beautiful.
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Great story/ tribute!
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Thank you. It is very much based on my mother – but of course not all of it is true.
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Thank you for commenting.
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finding happiness with little things…that’s mum!
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Celia this is a beautiful tribute to your Mum. I can see her smiling from above. Hugs Peggy xxx
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A wonderful slice of reflective love.
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This is worth more ❤
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Tactile.
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simplistic and deep.
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