cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog

Gone. August 27, 2001: Dad. August 27, 2011: Mom


mom’s last batch of cookies (on cowbird)


cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog


cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog


cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog


cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog


cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog


cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog


cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo shared by cogdogblog

Cookielove… http://storify.com/cogdog/cookielove

Profile Picture for Alan Levine aka CogDog
An early 90s builder of the web and blogging Alan Levine barks at CogDogBlog.com on web storytelling (#ds106 #4life), photography, bending WordPress, and serendipity in the infinite internet river. He thinks it's weird to write about himself in the third person.

Comments

  1. I need to tell you about this.

    About two months ago, I was at my parent’s and I noticed a butterfly on a shelf in our dining room. A real one. Mom said she saw it in our garden with its wings closed, dead. She has problably seen many dead butterflies in the 40+ years she’s lived there. However, she could not help saving this one from the wind and bring it inside. She told me this with a voice that evidenced a mix of surprise and admiration at the elegance of the butterfly’s pose. I keep things; Mom is the kind of person that throws things away. I’ve only seen her have that attitude when she used to prepare milk for lost kittens or a dog from the street.

    You can imagine I was amazed to hear all that. Her words brought thoughts of you. My Mom has no idea. I cannot bring myself to tell her about your story with butterflies. For her, the world is our home and Arizona is far. I’ll leave it there.

    I have a transparent box where I keep pieces of things I’ve come across when I travelled: little snails, pieces of wood from strange trees in the south of our country, etc. I told Mom I would add the little butterfly to the collection. She agreed.

    I’ll take a pic for you next time I visit.

    1. Thank you Claudia (and your Mom) for this keepsake butterfly story. It fills me with joy, and my Mom would just beam with happiness knowing this connection, after she would say, “Who, me?”

      I feel special indeed for this story.

  2. I always get misty when you post about your family. The love is tangible; the loss, even more so. These vignettes are touching. Ironically, I think of you and your mother whenever I bake chocolate chip cookies. In a way, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Hoping that we share what’s important to us in our stories so that it lives on in the universe through others around us.

    Thank you for sharing yourself and your stories.

    1. Oh thank you Robin. I know your own story makes the connection as well. Thanks for doing cookies!

      It’s too bad this are just “online friendships” not like the “real ones” (that was sarcasm, I am sure you know, but for others reading….).

      I look forward to the next time we can hang out!

  3. So beautiful to look at mom’s pictures, brings tears to my eyes and an ache in my heart. Missing her so much hurts but the beauty of her legacy makes me smile. As I looked at the children in my class on the first day of school today, it was hard to feel sad as mom loved children. Cookies, kugel, hugs and friendship, things that mom was able to share with so many.

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