Happy Mother’s Day to all of the women who have touched me life. We mother each other in so many ways, beyond giving birth. I’m grateful for the gifts you have given me. Above all, I’m grateful for the chance to have mothered the three children who call me Mom. This year, I can add Mima to that list, as my grandson is the newest light in my life. A chance to smell that sweet sleeping baby smell again… and watch a little boy grow.
Dear young mother at the park,
Today I watched you stand by the bay, holding your baby boy, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I’m not a stalker; I’m an aging mother, and seeing you there, touched me. The sun was shining, the breeze making the waves kick up the water. Your little boy, a year and a half? Maybe two? Your boy slept with his chubby arms wrapped around your neck, his head nestled against your chest, his face in your neck. Oh my God, how my heart skipped a beat. His face looked like my little boys’, twenty-three years ago, eighteen years ago. I think it really did look like my boy–– but that happens more and more these days. It’s been a long time since a little boy held my neck and slept so contentedly.
You stood there for a long time, and I wondered…
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