Days with the mourning dove song

It is the cruelest week in this season; especially, when its days last longer and its hours operate slower when it is hot and humid. The cruelest part is when the mourning dove starts singing early in the morning and it goes on till frustration deepen to nerves. Then you have to challenge with your sadness that followed by your own insanity.

The season that everyone starts leaving or about to leave for a short journey or a long one, it reminds me that this is also the season of when every living thing in desert swoons south toward some dream of a Gulf and better climate (if we human beings respect and protect the environment); I guess they also test the horizon while human beings are not able to see it because of shortsightedness or may be they are not able to be so ambitious to fly that high and see the horizon. Down here is blocked by cloud, fog and bushes. To see the horizon, indeed, we need flying up there to see the better horizon.

My mom (Janet) is flying tomorrow, I envy her ambition and her ability that she is able to do it. Here, everyday, the shrill of cicadas hurts my ears in Chestnut Hill and around but now there is another thing overlapping and haunting me: She is flying by tomorrow and will be away for a while. A while that will end my summer and I will not be able see her when she gets back, probably a month later. A while that I have to bear her absence and feel lonely and live with her memories, what she taught me and what I learn from her. A great woman that I ever met, a great woman that has been a great supporter to me at any time. A well-educated and informative woman and most importantly very enthusiastic about environment, energy, human rights, education and more importantly thinking about global issues. A gift that can be found only rarely, mom is leaving by tomorrow and my day, tomorrow, will start with mourning dove song.