I have a photograph of my mother.
She is standing all alone
With her shoes in her hand
And the surf at her feet.
White grains of sand between her toes,
Painted blue, matching the clear Mexican sky.
The sea breeze
Is pulling at her dress and hair.
Her skin is golden brown
Stained from hours in the sun,
The sun that glistens off the water.
She is smiling,
Eyes half squinting from the glare,
Sunglasses atop her head.
I look at a photograph of my mother
As, all alone, we spent the day together.