Imperfectly Perfect

Today is the fifth anniversary of mom’s passing. Chatting with my sister Nan, she said something about a Facebook quiz querying whether one would want a different mother if such circumstance could be. She wouldn’t. Nor would I. Mom was imperfectly perfect.

She was selfless in all the ways that matter. She was generous within her means. She wasn’t one to hold grudges or to flush with anger. By measure of core character, she was—and I should say is in the afterlife—genuinely good as most anyone can be in this world born from evil seed. We four children were blessed to have her.

To illustrate this post, I set out looking for something purple, because she so seemed to favor the color. The Featured Image is flawed but must do. There was just enough breeze that the flowers aren’t sharp; shallow depth of field and slow shutter speed are as much the problem, given the environmental conditions. But I present the shot, from Leica Q2, in mom’s memory nevertheless.

Vitals: f/3.2, ISO 100, 1/60 sec, 28mm; 6:06 p.m. PDT, today. Macro mode.