My mother was born on a winter solstice, Dec. 21, 1917. She died on my father's 36th birthday, Jan. 22, 1953. I was 4 and 1/2. My sister and I, both now in our 70's, share memories of our mother every Dec. 21, her birthday. My older sister will remind me, "shortest day of the year, short life." But we light yertzeit candles on the winter solstice, her date of birth, rather than on the anniversary of her death.
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My mother was born on a winter solstice, Dec. 21, 1917. She died on my father's 36th birthday, Jan. 22, 1953. I was 4 and 1/2. My sister and I, both now in our 70's, share memories of our mother every Dec. 21, her birthday. My older sister will remind me, "shortest day of the year, short life." But we light yertzeit candles on the winter solstice, her date of birth, rather than on the anniversary of her death.
This is so beautiful, Esther. I love this poem. Happy Solstice.
And here’s one for you:
Solstice
By me
On this sole day, December
light and night unequal,
backdrop to dark spires
of bark and cardinal
lamentations. I am
a smaller druid, meeker.
Winter wins. What sacrifice
suffices to lull
that feathered thing
from its hibernian sleep,
to keep earth fecund,
a second rising?
beautiful
Thank you, Esther.
Let the Sun Shine!