To my mum, Corona was a fizzy drink with a deposit on the glass bottle, sometimes delivered with the groceries in pre-supermarket days.
As you might have guessed, Mum is not here to treat or talk to on Mother’s Day (or any other day). I know I’m not alone in feeling, most years, that the currently motherless are left out in the general celebrations.
This year things are different for everyone. People might be waving to each other from behind glass. I find myself feeling more sorry for others – though I would still be glad to talk to mum on the phone or wave to her from afar if that was all that was available.

I wouldn’t have been able to give her a posy like this one: I picked them from my garden for a neighbour’s birthday. Mum loved wild flowers but she had developed some allergic reactions.
My promise to Mum was that we would plant her grave with primroses and forget-me-nots.
Regularly we meet up with Dad there and snip around the delicate flowers – tending the grave isn’t necessary but burial ground maintenance is by strimmer and that doesn’t suit.
The last time we were there, we had already become wary of hugging for fear of passing something on. It has taken us years to be so free with each other as to offer a hug and a kiss. Will it ever feel normal again?
Dad brought bunches of daffodils in bud. The ones from the time before were in full bloom and he gave them to me to bring home. It felt a little odd to have flowers from mum’s grave on the windowsill but I still loved them.

I tried compressing my feelings into a haiku:
take back the sunshine
buds left behind will open
unseen on the hill
This week Dad went to Mum’s grave alone. Again the flowers he’d left the time before were in full bloom. He took them back to the flat where there is no mum, and fewer of the usual distractions: no football, which they both loved, on TV. No cricket. No rugby. No social gatherings. He’s listening to music and finding other things to do.
And we can still talk every day.
However you are managing: I hope you are!
People are trying to find the positive out of this outbreak, no matter how hard it is. I don’t watch TV, but music will do it for me. Nice haiku.
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Thanks very much, Jina. Lots of writers are able to embrace the isolation, I think. Plenty of reading time too and maybe solitary walks. But time will tell …
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With all the restrictions and lock downs, my quiet time is practically non-existent – kids are home bound, it’s cold (so I can’t kick them out to play outside) and sibling rivalry is worse than ever. Sigh. Let’s hope something good happens soon.
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Oh yes. That is so much more tricky. Lots of people talking about this and what to do … But not my area of expertise.
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I read your thoughtful post on the pandemic too but couldn’t see how to like it or comment. You know that sneezing was a sign of the bubonic plague? Hence the song: Ring a ring a roses, a pocket full of posies, atishoo atishoo we all fall down, which has persisted for centuries as a nursery rhyme and a child’s game. I wonder if children will make up something about Corona. They won’t be able to do it in the schoolyard but maybe through virtual contact. We’re lucky to have that!
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I didn’t know that!
Yes, I think socializing virtually helps people cope better. Stay safe.
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Thanks. You too.
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Thank you, Maria, we’re managing well here. As you say, it seems like writers and readers have a certain degree of resilience when it comes to isolation.
It sounds like you’re being sensible, too. The flowers are beautiful. I haven’t seen primroses here, yet. Maybe I haven’t looked closely enough.
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The primroses in my garden started flowering in November, which was a bit soon. Well the news seems more alarming now even though there are no new restrictions for us in terms of behaviour. Glad to know you are managing. Keep well!
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Thanks, Maria. You keep well, too.
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Thanks, Maria. You might relate to this — https://petersironwood.com/2020/05/02/mothers-day/
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Thanks – I did!
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