Oh, Sue-Sue, thank-youFor sharing your love with me
Of holy mothers
As I wrote the other day, it was my friend Sue who introduced me to the love of the Madonnas. Her house was EAT up with Madonnas.
She liked Madonna, too, but that's another subject.
I remember when she got sick she said, "You'd think with all these Virgins around, no illness could get in."
"If that were true," I said, "the pope would never die."
Ah lah.
So when Sue died, I got this Madonna and I do love her. I love the thumb clutching the cloak together, the delicate winged eyebrow, the halo-moon above her.
I love the faded blues and still-strong gold, the bright red around her neck and her expression, not quite sad, not quite happy, very serious.
I love her mostly because she was Sue's. I keep her in my bathroom which is one of my favorite rooms. It is not irreverent, I think, mostly because I can lie in my bathtub and look up at her and that makes me happy. She is there, and I like to think she does not mind my nudity.
For far more reverent takes on the Madonna, please go visit rebecca.
And for far more beautifully written haiku, go to the same place.
One-stop shopping, y'all. Can't beat that.
And now, because I can, here's another Owen picture.
I told Lily today that I could just take pictures of this boy all day. I cried right after I took this one and she said, "Is it because he's using a fork?"
"Yes," I said. I didn't even mention the way his beauty makes my heart overflow until my eyes must leak it.
"Well, quit crying. He doesn't use it very well."
My Lily girl. Owen's Holy Mother.
Sue's Madonna in my beautiful bathroom.
Blessings all.
In my world, at least.
