It’s raining out and I am feeling rather decadent, still sitting in bed, the cat purring on my right, and a second cup of coffee on my nightstand as I watch the oak leaves, persimmon green, reach for the raindrops as they begin to unfold in all their splendor.  Nuthatches and chickadees hop from branch to branch, cracking sunflower seed shells while keeping a sharp eye out for nesting material as the cycle of life begins again.
It is Mother’s Day tomorrow and as I glance at the pictures around my bedroom of my own two sons, my mind drifts from one memory to the next of our lives together and the connection, that bond, that lies between us.
It always amazes me at the cavalier way some people bare children, and go about the business of raising them.  A sister-in-law once told me that our purpose in life as mothers is to raise our children to be able to leave us.  It was such a difficult thought to comprehend as my two little boys were the epicenter of my world and an on-going marvel I relished every day.  I didn’t want to think that these moments would end…that they would one day find other pleasures, which made them happy, and I would be assigned a back seat in their lives.  When that day came, as inevitably it does, I floundered about and silently mourned the passing of time.
The years have passed, and I have ached over them leaving the cocoon I provided them with, an empty nest, a refrigerator bare of artwork and pictures.  I have punished myself for the decisions I made that, in retrospect, weren’t the best and I have tried in my own way to be a better person, a better mom, a better role model for which lies a safe haven for them no matter how far apart in miles we now continue our lives.
Being a mom for me doesn’t mean I need a day set aside in which they pay homage to me.  I love the cards, the flowers, the time set aside just to see me but at the end of each day I know, deep inside, that I have been given the greatest gift that I ever wanted.  That gift is in their eyes, their laughter (at me and with me), their phone calls, text messages and bear hugs.  Their patience and thoughtfulness as well as becoming two of my staunchest protectors when anyone dares to harm me or cause me distress assures me of how much I am loved.  I see pieces of myself in them, and that makes me smile and continue to marvel at the wonder of it all.
So being a mom isn’t necessarily cause for a Hallmark holiday as every day is a holiday inside my heart.  Whether they ever realize it or not, they have already given me more gifts and more joy than any brightly wrapped gift could contain.  Happy Mother’s Day everyone – enjoy it all but most importantly, enjoy the miracle(s) you helped create. Image

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