half a bottle of champagne, a star, candles, 2 glasses.
the birdhouse the wind blew down.
i raised the blinds and there they were, sitting on my mother's picnic table, making me laugh right out loud. not an easy before breakfast accomplishment. i quick took pictures through the window screen while my oatmeal cooked.
later she told me they'd had one of those days the morning before, she and a friend, and so they'd sat on the back porch, drinking champagne and smoking the blues away with cigarettes, talking the way women do when life requires talking, and she said she'd meant to go back and pick up the bottle, but forgot, and i thought my mother would like that, that our back porch, though interrupted by cold weather, was being used, that her old table was a bit of sanctuary. we still don't have lights up, but candles are doing the job just fine.