Once, near nightfall, I drove past my mother\u2019s house.
\nShe was inside it, moving about some task.
\nI saw her move from room to room.<\/p>\n
I could have stopped. Shortly she would draw the blinds
\nbut a knock on the door might alarm her
\nwho had her routine for night.<\/p>\n
It was all those unseen moments we do not see
\nthe best of a friend, the best of a mother
\ncompetent and gracious in her solitude<\/p>\n
as if she was concentrating as she had as a child
\non something she was reading or pondering
\na thought that occupied a minute of a day<\/p>\n
and brought her pleasure at her own competence
\nto tame a minute, to exist inside it
\nas still as the minute was to itself<\/p>\n
neither neutral nor particular but she made it
\nwho would soon walk into the last room
\nof her life and go to sleep in it.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Once, near nightfall, I drove past my mother\u2019s house. She was inside it, moving about some task. I saw her move from room to room. I could have stopped. Shortly she would draw the blinds but a knock on the door might alarm her who had her routine for night. It was all those unseen […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":134,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[327,328],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n